


Sherlock Holmes' Diary

by errantcomment



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Crack, Fluff, M/M, UST, Unrequited John/Sherlock, Unrequited Molly/Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:15:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errantcomment/pseuds/errantcomment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes keeps a diary. No one is supposed to know about it. He's pretty sure Mycroft does though, the fat nosy git.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fusion for Sherlock and Bridget Jones' Diary so there will be similarities. Many thanks to oxfordtweed for ye old beta, this one is all for you, dear.
> 
>  
> 
> [A TRANSLATION INTO CHINESE YOU SAY??](http://www.mtslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=92920&extra=) Many thanks to nothing_ever_happens for their hard work on this one. You have to join the forum to read it, I believe, but that's still pretty damn cool however you cut it. XD

**January 1st.** _Cigarettes 7 (All out of bathroom window) Fantasies involving burning horrible couch-bed thing 600 (per hour) Christmas chocolates consumed 3.5kg (but still early)_  
  
 **1000** Woke up on Mycroft’s couch. Hate his couch-bed thing, too short, woke up a hunchback with one leg wrapped round neck. Don’t understand why he couldn’t just pick me up from Montague Street, but apparently cannot be trusted to go to Mummy’s horrible New Year’s dinner under my own steam. Not allowed to smoke at all, have been sneaking them out the bathroom window. Tubby will never guess. Made tea and took to bathroom for crafty cigarette and less crafty shower. Mycroft knocked on door.  
  
“Can you shower after your cigarette? You know how the smell upsets Mummy.”  
  
Hate him.  
  
 **1030** Mmmm. Milk Tray for breakfast. Best thing about Christmas, especially since Mycroft is eating half a grapefruit. Offer him orange creme. Eat it in front of him when he refuses. Glorious.  
  
 **1330** Dinner at Mummy’s predictably ghastly. Sat next to Uncle Chadwick, who is basically Mycroft in twenty years time. Red-faced and jowly, he likes to drink red wine and Scotch and smoke enormous cigars. Predict he will be dead in five to ten years, hopefully whilst on top of much younger mistress (new hair cut, ghastly paisley green shirt, tan in effort to look younger, tan line where wedding band has been put back on in slightly different place, small smear of red lipstick on ear and brown hair on lapel (Aunt May wears a vicious shade of pink that permanently stains your cheek and has been bottle blonde since 1990)). Having finally troughed his way through a plate of Sunday roast that weighed more than me, and about half a trifle, he could finally turn his attention to more pressing matters.  
  
“So, nephew, found yourself a nice girl yet?” Oh god.  
  
“No...” I muttered, instantly about thirteen again. Across the room Mycroft was engaged in conversation with Cousin Millicent, who, despite name, is one of the least heinous members of our family. Hate him.  
  
“Can’t wait forever, old boy.” Why can he not just use my name? “All the good ones will be taken. Look at Jilly over there.” Cousin Jilly married at twenty-five to some Tory crashing bore and has been pumping out babies ever since, like grotesque Gatling gun. Also does yoga, works in publishing and active in PTA. She caught me staring and smiled, dark hair perfectly in place. Hate her.  
  
“Excuse me.” I mumbled and dived out. Bumped into Cousin Freddie outside bathroom.  
  
“You’re next to Uncle Chadwick, aren’t you? Hard luck dear. Here.” She handed me a Silk Cut.  
“Thanks.” I practically ate the proffered cigarette. By the time I got back, Uncle Chadwick was expounding on why we shouldn’t give into the damn foreigners coming into the country. Others round the table were nodding righteously. I considered throwing myself out of the window just as Mummy wafted across the room with a watery-eyed woman.  
  
“Sherlock, cherie- ” She wrinkled her nose. “Have you been smoking again? I do wish you wouldn’t; you know how I hate it...” Oh lord, I recognised that tone. She was about to introduce me to one of her friends’ children in the wild hope I might become instantly attracted to her and take her home in order to create twenty fat grandchildren for her to spoil.  
  
“No, Mother. I’ve given up.” And where the hell did that come from? I like smoking.  
  
“Oh, really? That is good news. I’m so pleased, dear,” and she pulled me down into a hug. “You won’t need these any more then, will you?” She’d taken the half-packet of Benson and Hedges out of the inner pocket of my suit jacket. How does she do that? “This is Charlotte Fitzgerald, Sherlock; she’s Herbert and Miriam’s daughter. I thought you should get to know each other.”  
I looked her up and down.  
  
“You’re a primary school teacher and the class pet is a rabbit. You own two cats. You once visited India and retain a fascination with the country and it’s fashions, and probably its food too. You drive a Mini, you like cosy nights in on the couch and long walks, and you are having an affair with... Your boss? Yes, definitely. You should dump him, he’s never going to leave his wife.” Her eyes bugged out, hands clutching at nothing (traces of Plasticine under fingernails, poster paint on sleeve of cardigan, three different types of animal hair but more cat than rabbit, Indian style of make-up, bright clothes, slight smell of curry powder, keys sticking out of pocket, romantic ideals along with love-bite badly hidden by concealer allow extrapolation on affair, boss shot in the dark, good one though, office affairs rarely end well). Mummy looked apoplectic.  
  
“Excuse me, must run,” I fled the scene. Feel vaguely bad for dull woman, but really did not want to have another tedious conversation today. Tried to get lost in crowd, spotted Mycroft forging towards me. He looked cross, probably because I got him to move so soon after dinner. Also maybe because Dull Charlotte rushed off in tears. Possibly. Dodged out to hide and caught Jilly popping Ritalin in the corridor. Felt much better and grinned broadly at her. She rushed off, no idea why. Can hear Mummy and Mycroft coming. Hopefully they won’t find me.  
  
 **1630** Driven home in disgrace by Mycroft, who kept saying things like “You do know you always hide in that cupboard when you get into trouble?” and “India... Really.” and “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” Sanctimonious stuffed shirt. Asked him if he had enjoyed his second helping of trifle. That shut him up.  
  
 **2200** All cigarettes have disappeared from flat. Hate him.  
  
  
 **January 2nd.** _Nicotine patches 3 (who on earth thought these even worked??) Cigarettes 6 Cases 0 0 0 (bored Bored BORED)_  
  
Lestrade called with a case. Solved it over the phone. Why does he insist on being so dull? Must go to morgue tomorrow. Dying of ennui.  
  
  
 **January 3rd.** _Nicotine patches 5 (no smoking in lab) Cigarettes 3 (but mostly Molly’s menthol ones) Experiments 3_  
  
Molly all grumpy today, almost bit my head off when I asked for stomach acid and a non-diseased liver. Asked her if it was because speed-dating hadn’t worked (saw the advert on her desk, recent haircut) and she threw a stapler at my head. Brought me a cup of coffee and some custard creams to make it up though. She says I’d like speed-dating, because I’d only have two minutes to ruin someone’s life. Sweet, if disturbingly violent girl.  
  
 **1530** Mycroft called and offered me a case. I don’t understand why he thinks I would want to take on his boring bureaucratic files, especially since he could probably solve them himself if he’d just lever that well-upholstered bottom out of his office-chair. He told me menthol cigarettes still count, and Mummy would be disappointed. Hate him.  
  
 **1200** Called Mycroft’s work phone seven times in a row from a phone-box in Clapham and hung up when he answered. Felt better.  
  
  
 **January 4th.** _Nicotine patches 4 Cigarettes 2 (Pretty good) Cases 1_  
  
Am taking Mycroft’s case because he threatened to tell Mummy about the time I blew up the Ogilvys’ shed.  
  
 **January 6th** _Nicotine patches 3 Cigarettes 10 (It’s my birthday) Presents 5 (realised most relatives don’t actually know where I live)_  
  
Mummy sent me a scarf. Mycroft gave me a Blackberry, since then he ‘knows the bill will be paid.’ It’s useful. I hate when he does that. Saved his number under ‘Tubbs’ and felt better. Molly gave me a card with a cat on and a cupcake with a candle in it. Mike Stamford took me out to lunch. Apparently I don’t eat enough. I do wish he wouldn’t fuss so much, but he gave me some very nice gloves. Lestrade sent me a text about a couple of suicides and a cold case. The cold case was quite interesting. He invited me to dinner, but Lestrade has about five children, all of whom are various sorts of mad and small, so I declined. The flat very empty tonight. Feel unusual.  
  
 **2300** Got out Emergency Box. Haven’t since August last year (Mrs Lestrade’s funeral where Lestrade cried on my coat). Laid out needle, spoon, vial. Then put it all back again. I don’t need it. Not really. Will play violin instead.  
  
 **0230** Landlord banged on ceiling and threatened actual bodily harm. Philistine.  
  
 **0300** Can’t sleep. Flat echoingly empty.  
  
  
 **January 7th.** _Nicotine patches 5 (no smoking in lab) Cigarettes 5 (but mostly menthol)_  
  
 **1115** Molly all cross. Apparently microwave is food-only. How was I to know the container would melt into a blob of plastic? Staff room smells of chemicals. Told her she should use the blob as modern art. She threw it at me. Made her tea and custard creams. She told me I was a prick and took three custard creams.  
  
 **1130** The blob is on her desk.  
  
 **1145** She’s put a kitten on the blob like it’s climbing it. Maybe she inhaled the chemical smoke.  
  
  
 **January 9th.** _Nicotine patches 3 Cigarettes 10 (but mostly menthol) Speed daters deduced 5 (over ten minutes) Bizarre incidents 1_  
  
 **2200** Molly took me out to her speed-dating thing, and it actually was tremendous fun till the overseer/herder/coordinator/dictator kicked us both out. Molly a little annoyed at that.  
  
“You shouldn’t be, I saved you a lot of hassle. That guy you were with wasn’t serious about it either. He just wanted a quick shag.” She hit me. She’s so violent. We sat in her car outside my  flat and had a cigarette.  
  
“You don’t need speed dating anyway. People rarely enter long-term relationships with that sort of thing.” I flicked my cigarette out the window. “You’re far more likely to end up with someone closer to home.”  
  
And then she kissed me.  
  
 **2215** It’s not that it wasn’t pleasant but  
I could have said something much worse than “Sorry, I can’t do this.”  
Molly is so, well  
I think that  
She certainly drove off fast  
Maybe if  
Oh for goodness’ sake.  
  
 **2220** Texted Mike. Then called him when he didn’t answer. He said I gave mixed messages, and I should apologise. What does he mean, I should apologise? I didn’t kiss anyone!  
  
 **2300** I hope this doesn’t make it awkward for me to be in the morgue.  
  
 **2310** How does melting a microwave lead anyone on?  
  
 **2315** And I don’t understand how sharing biscuits could be construed as flirting. Not in this case anyway. I share biscuits with Mycroft. Oh god. Flirting with Mycroft. Does anyone flirt with Mycroft? Seems wrong somehow. Consider implications of Mycroft speed dating. Maybe I should make him a profile on OKCupid.  
  
  
 **January 10th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 20 (Stress) Bizarre incidents 1 (but different to yesterday)_  
  
 **1000** Took Molly a Tesco’s bag full of custard creams. She burst into tears, hugged me, and rushed out.  
  
 **1015** Texted Mike.  
  
“I need your help, Molly’s gone insane. SH.”  
“Did you apologise?”  
“She started crying.”  
“Blimey. Hell of an apology mate.”  
“What do I do?”  
“Give her a hankie?”  
“...”  
“Where are you?”  
“Outside your classroom.”  
  
Mike says that women are mysterious and complex, and I should be glad she didn’t hit me with the biscuits. When I went back to the morgue Molly made me a cup of tea though. Does that mean everything’s alright again?  
  
  
 **January 12th.** _Nicotine patches 2 Cigarettes 25 Cases 1_  
  
Client e-mailed me about some missing accounts in Yorkshire. Looks to be quite interesting. More straightforward than Molly, who seems to have quite lost her head. Keeps looking at me and sighing, and bringing me pens and things. All signs point to infatuation, but I thought the custard creams had solved that. Will deal with it after case. Hate dealing with emotions; needlessly complicated and messy.  
  
  
 **January 16th.** _Nicotine patches 4 Cigarettes 30 (Stress) Flats 0 Annoying Brothers 1 (but annoying enough for seven)_  
  
 **1640** Got back from Bradford to find that in my absence one of my home experiments had fallen over, reacted with the prussic acid on the floor and filled the flat with a corrosive gas that has quite destroyed the wallpaper and carpets, not to mention my nice sofa set. Landlord livid, thought the top of his head would just explode like a volcano but with brains and skull instead of lava and lumps of rock. Have offered to pay with damage, but apparently I am no longer welcome. Something about 4am violin and the smell. Fine. Didn’t like it there anyway. Staying at Mycroft’s tonight. He’s so smug. Have bribed him not to tell Mummy, but have to do dull case about forgery in return. Hate him.  
  
 **1930** Had crispy bacon sandwich with lots of butter and tomato sauce for dinner. Mycroft had salad. Wiped out frying pan with bit of bread and offered him half. Feel a bit better.  
  
 **2200** Watched ten o’ clock news with Mycroft, who likes to make sure that his spin is spun correctly. Once read something (a joke?) about how some news-casters don’t wear trousers, since you can’t see them from the waist down. Wonder if this counts for radio presenters too, except they could be naked, or just wearing underwear. Imagine John Humphrys in his underwear shouting at Anne Widdecombe about foreign policy. Would she be in her underwear too? She would feel more vulnerable that way, more likely to answer questions truthfully. Thinking about Anne Widdecombe in underwear makes me wish it was possible to clean your brain like you clean your teeth. So she would be clothed. Being shouted at by John Humphrys in his underwear would be pretty disconcerting if you were clothed. Maybe add a sexual frisson though. Always thought James Naughtie sounded like a porno name. Imagine Libby Purves (another porn star) giving reports on foreign affairs in lacy underwear. Thought for the day indeed.  
  
“Mycroft, do you ever do important phone calls in your underwear?”  
“What on earth are you talking about?”  
“When you call New Zealand, or wherever.”  
“Why would I call New Zealand?”  
Honestly, he can be so dense.  
  
 **January 17th.** _Nicotine patches 3 Cigarettes 10 (Better) Annoying brothers Still 1 (worst luck)_  
  
 **1030** There was a note on the bathroom door. ‘Please don’t smoke in here, it makes the towels smell.’ Hate him. Had cigarette in the airing cupboard instead, and felt a bit better. Note in fridge asking me not to make a mess. He’s so obsessive. There was even a note on the pantry that told me to use the open jam first. I can’t stay here. He’s mad.  
  
  
 **January 18th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 15 (Mindless rebellion)_  
  
 **1100** Mummy called and asked me how the not smoking was going. Found myself putting a magazine over cigarette packet as I told her it was fine. She told me to try harder and to throw away the packet I just hid. How does she know these things? Also said if I hate living with Fatso so much I could come and live with her. Told her that I couldn’t possibly leave London. Also would rather chew arm off then go back home and have to sit through interminable social engagements with elderly women with two last names. Also the butler tells Mummy if I smoke out of the window, which somehow seems unfair.  
  
  
 **January 19th.** _Nicotine patches 4 Cigarettes 9 Pens 10000_  
  
 **1330** Bought Mike lunch and told him about the Mad Post-It Noter, aka my brother. His suggestion was to actually flat-hunt instead of waiting for brother to get sufficiently annoyed and make me move out. Molly continues to be weird. Am drowning in pens. She was wearing lipstick. Custard creams clearly made matters worse. Texted Mike and told him. He told me to fight fire with fire and to stop bothering him in class. What does that mean? I don’t want to wear lipstick.  
  
  
 **January 20th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 10_  
  
Took Molly a custard cream and told her to stop bringing me pens because no one could ever use that many pens ever, but that the lipstick made her look quite pretty. She took the custard cream and looked confused, but she didn’t bring me any more pens. Maybe that fixed it?  
  
  
 **January 21st.** _Nicotine patches 4 Cigarettes 9 Annoying Brothers 1 (but works hard)_  
  
 **0830** Mycroft threw out my experiment about the dissolving qualities of different types of soft-drink.  
  
 **0900** Think I’ll play the violin today.  
  
 **Midnight** Mycroft came out of his room in his pyjamas and threatened to stick my bow somewhere very uncomfortable. How rude, I thought I was playing very well.  
  
  
 **January 22nd.** _Nicotine patches 2 Cigarettes 30 (Mycroft)_  
  
 **0830** Mycroft stole my violin while I was in the shower. Took it to work with him. Texted him telling him not to sit on his with his enormous bottom or accidentally eat it for lunch. Hate him. So distraught and bored had to resort to smoking. However, so distraught about violin that mistook airing cupboard for bathroom. Oops.  
  
  
 **January 23rd.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 10 Cases 1_  
  
 **2130** He’s brought a girl home! A real girl! I spied on them from the kitchen, and it’s not that secretary, or a prostitute (wouldn’t put it past him, dirty old man). She’s giggling. He’s giggling. How unnatural. Realised am trapped in kitchen. Oh god, what if they get carried away on the couch. Have to sleep there later. Wonder if could learn to levitate above bed, or cover all the surfaces in clingfilm. Maybe I could rush out and tell them not to make a mess of nice clean sofa. Last time I did something like that Mycroft threatened to push me out the window.  
  
Fatty found me in the kitchen. Obviously thought I was out. Told me to keep quiet and he would take her to different part of the house. I said it was unfair of him to exploit her father issues. His ears were all red. It was brilliant.  
  
 **2220** How long does it take to get someone into the bedroom? Especially since they’ve guzzled a bottle of champagne since they got home. Mycroft’s put the television on. Hate him.  
  
 **2300** Lestrade called with a crime scene. Could still hear giggling from front-room. Considered going through window but since my coat was in the hall no other choice. Burst into front room. Tiny blonde woman squeaked and fell out of Mycroft’s lap. Good lord.  
  
“Sorry, must dash. Don’t wait up.” I said, breathlessly. As I found my other glove I could hear Mycroft saying something and then the blonde saying,  
  
“Gosh, and you look after him anyway? You’re so sweet ,” with a sort of breathy intonation that women use when they think being naive and cute will get them somewhere. Hate him.  
  
  
 **January 24th** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 13_  
  
 **0230** Asked Lestrade if I could stay with him. He smirked and asked me if I would prefer one of the bunk-beds with the twins or the shed. Also that his eldest would never approve. Apparently she doesn’t like me much. Can’t think why.  
  
“It’s because you’re a smug git who makes my life simultaneously harder and easier.” Oh, well, there you go then. Anderson told me not to mess up his crime scene. Don’t know why; he always misses the important things. In this case it was the strip torn from the curtains with the same blade. Idiot. Told him as much; he kicked me off the scene. Heard him shouting at Lestrade about never letting the freak back onto one of his scenes again. Hope he gets eaten by own overalls.  
  
 **1040** BORED.  
  
 **1100** Found Mycroft’s stash of historical fiction. He’s such an old woman. These books have the most ridiculous titles.  
  
 **1105** Ooh, Jack the Ripper.  
  
 **1730** Mycroft came home (without giggling blonde) and shouted at me.  
  
“I was just reading them! It’s so dull here!” I yelled back.  
“I’m not banning you from reading them, just from getting them all out to build a fort. You’re like a child!”  
“It’s not a fort! It’s a barrier against fat people!” Obviously.  
Then he hit me.  
  
 **2230** At Mike’s in his spare room. He says he’ll put me up for a couple of days, till I find a new place. Mrs Mike looked murderous. May lock door this evening. Can hear her downstairs. She sounds awfully cross. Told them I would look after Small Child in return (Mike wants a day with Mrs Mike). She said only if I could remember the name. Could have sworn it was Christine. Turns out it’s Simon.  
  
  
 **January 25th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 3 (small child)_  
  
Took Small Child- Simon- to Natural History Museum in the afternoon, so that Mike and Mrs Mike can have day off. Women kept smiling at me, including desk woman, who had to be at least as old as the dinosaur skeleton.  Simon seemed to enjoy himself, even though had to carry him round last part because his feet hurt. Bought him a stuffed pterodactyl apparently called Terry. Went to cafe for lunch, had chips and cream buns literally size of small child’s head. Walked back through park. Tested theories of centrifugal forces and inertia in playground. Also fed the ducks. Had ice-cream. Mistake as ice-cream seems to instantly laminate child with layer of the stuff that makes Sellotape sticky. Found wet-wipes and applied liberally. Women with prams kept smiling at me. Most disturbing. Went home on Tube, because Simon insisted. He likes to watch the people, apparently. We watched an old couple going home for dinner, an enormous black man wearing a frilly pink dress, and I showed him how to tell the difference between a plumber and a bricklayer. We had Chinese food for dinner and then I told Simon about water displacement whilst he had a bath.  
  
 **2030** Put child to bed because he fell asleep into warm milk. Wiped most of it off though.  
  
 **2330** Mrs Mike annoyed about bathroom, despite the fact that water mops quite easily off tile. Apologised, because the melon did make more of a splash than I thought it would. Her lips went all thin and her nostrils flared and it was kind of fascinating, but Mike pulled me away, though I could have sworn he was trying not to smile.  
  
 **0300** Simon just woke up screaming about the dinosaurs. Turned out he didn’t actually like the animatronic dinosaurs. I thought they were a bit naff; he thought they were coming to eat him.  
  
  
 **January 26th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 3 (small child) Flats looked at 5_  
  
 **0830** Was eating Coco Pops with small child when Mrs Mike slapped the small ads in front of me.  
  
“I’ve underlined some good ones for you,” she said, and smiled. Well, her lips turned up.  
“Can we go to the park again today?” Simon piped up.  
“Maybe, dear.”  
“Was asking Sherlock.” I blinked. The child was looking at us solemnly. “Want to fly again.”  
“What?” That was not a good tone. I stared at the want ads. Maybe I could teleport to one just by wishing. Or maybe Lestrade would call. I’d take anything.  
“Sherlock showed me how to fly on the swings.”  
“Did he now? Well, that’s nice. Is that why your trousers were torn?”  
“No, that was the roundabout. We span really really fast, and if you sit in the middle you don’t fall off, but I wasn’t quite in the middle.”  
“Really.” Mike had just shuffled in and was staring. I tried to telepathically explain. He was looking at his wife in the same way the bomb squad looks at unattended baggage.  
“Uh, what did I miss?” he ventured.  
“I’m looking at flats!” I interrupted. “Ooh, look, there’s one. Must fly, maybe later, Simon.”  
  
 **1230** In horrid greasy spoon. Hate all flats. They’re all happy until they ask why you’re living at your friend’s place. Then suddenly someone else has shown a lot of interest thank you so much for coming, buh-bye now.  
  
 **1240** Mycroft texted: “Why not just buy a place?”  
  
 **1245** “Because then I’d have to be as boring as you.”  
  
 **1250** I wonder if Mrs Mike has cooled off yet.  
  
 **1300** 221B Baker Street. Why is that familiar?  
  
 **1305** Of course! Mrs Hudson. Such an interesting case. Going over for afternoon tea.  
  
 **1315** Called Mike. Mrs Mike is apparently ironing. Ask him if that means its still not safe. He said I should consider immigrating, especially since Simon won’t shut up about dinosaurs and apparently wants to be a pterodactyl when he grows up. Told him might have found a place. He cheered. How rude.  
  
 **1600** Meeting with Mrs Hudson mostly successful. Flat great, if a bit oddly set out. Kind of like that. Already got a deal on some cheap furniture, Mrs Hudson will provide rest though, because most of it will be difficult to get up the stairs. She fed me fairy cakes and asked me  
  
“So why are you living with Mister Stamford?”  
“Disagreement with my landlord.” It suddenly felt like the time I got sent home from school for fighting and Mummy said “And what exactly did you say to Perkins Minor before he hit you?”  
“Oh really?”  
“There was a small matter of some rent that slipped my mind... And an experiment sort of... Exploded. But really, it’s nothing. Come on, Mrs Hudson, please?” I tried to look as harmless as possible. She sighed and gave me a very Mummy-ish look. The one that says she can see right through me. I hate it.  
“Well, there are two rooms you know,” she said, stirring her tea. “You could get a flatmate. You know, to remind you on,”  
A flatmate! Who on earth would live with me? Even I don’t like living with me much, there are always bills and things and the milk’s always off because, honestly, who can keep track?  
  
 **1900** Spoke to Mike.  
  
“I found a flat.”  
“Huzzah! When are you moving in?”  
“As soon as I can find a flatmate.”  
“Oh.”  
  
  
 **January 27th**. _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 5 (small child) Flatmates found 0_  
  
 **1030** In desperation, called Mycroft, despite the fact that he is a fat bullying git. He doesn’t know anyone he dislikes enough to be my flatmate. Hate him.  
  
 **1330** Took Simon out for lunch and dropped by the morgue. Remembered animatronic episode and wouldn’t let him into main room. Got Molly to come out and see us. She seemed quite taken with Simon, and gave him three custard creams. She says that she doesn’t know anyone looking for a place.  
  
“Wait, are you as messy at home as you are here?” She was watching Simon carefully pull a custard cream apart and lick the icing off. “And you’ve taught him your custard cream murdering ways.”  
  
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” I said, haughtily. “And that’s a perfectly acceptable way to eat a biscuit.”  
  
“Thought so. Definitely don’t know anyone. You’re a menace and you can’t eat biscuits properly.” Preferred her mooning over me. Went to the park and showed Simon how to get proper lift on a see-saw, and we found a duck-nest. There were no eggs in it. Simon fell over. Oh well, a little pond-slime never hurt anyone.  
  
 **1600** Actually doing paperwork for the Yard. Lestrade almost fell over when he saw me.  
  
“You never do the paperwork. Not unless I tie you to the chair usually.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, crossly.  
Text from Mike: “You’d better find a flatmate soon. Missus fit to be tied.”  
Text back: “I’m sorry, I didn’t know he was dripping. I’ll pay for the carpet. And the wall. And his jacket.”  
Lestrade was looking over my shoulder.  
“Ah, the true story comes out. Who on earth was mad enough to leave you with a small child?”  
“Shut up.”  
“And no, I don’t know anyone who needs a flatmate.” I glared at him. He laughed. Hate him.  
  
 **1900** I now have twenty-one of Lestrade’s IDs. It’s barely even a challenge any more.  
  
  
 **January 28th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 15 (Moving) Flatmates 0 Cases 1_  
  
 **0900** Mrs. Hudson has let me put all my things at Baker Street. She still wants me to find a flatmate though, since she refuses to just remind me when the rent is. “I’m your landlady, not your housekeeper.” Whatever that means.  
  
 **1000** Lestrade put me onto interesting case. Wife is convinced brother-in-law killed husband.  
  
  
  
  
 **January 29th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 7 (Well) Flatmates 1? (Don’t want to discuss it)_  
  
 **1240** Text from Mike: “May have found you flatmate. Old friend from uni. Missed lunch for this so don’t mess it up!” God knows who it is. Some dull middle-management type I imagine. Text back: “Fine. Will be as charming as you like.”  
  
 **1400** Oh my. Sitting in Molly’s office with soothing cup of tea. John Watson. Oh my.  
I didn’t mess it up.  
I think. I mean. Oh no.  
He’ll come I think. Why wouldn’t he?  
I mean, oh lord. Here’s the thing.  
I  
He  
  
 **1430** Mike came in. “What the hell was that?”  
“I don’t know what you mean.” Liar.  
“If that’s you trying to be charming I’d hate to see what you’d be like driving someone off!” He folded his arms.  
“I just- look, it’s fine. He’ll come. He might even stay.” Mike gave me a long look.  
“Well, he’d better. The missus’s eyes still glow red at the mention of your name.” Not a joke.  
Got John Watson’s number (oh my) off Mike. Wonder if it would be stalker-ish to text him right now. Probably.  
Molly came back.  
  
“He seemed nice...” she volunteered, and then saw my face. For some reason I’ve never really been able to hide my face from women as well as I can from men.  “Oh dear. That bad? You didn’t do the deducing thing did you? You did, didn’t you?” She fetched out the custard creams. This was a whole packet emergency, apparently. “Well, you said he’d come back. And I’ve yet to see you wrong. Except for that time with the intestines and the intern.” Molly is so lovely. Like sister or similar. Imagine if Molly had been sister instead of Mycroft. Much quieter childhood probably. Less fat nosy gits sticking their nose in all over the place. Not that Mycroft is my sister. Imagine Mycroft in a dress. Surprisingly clear image, actually. Wonder if it’s normal to imagine brother with breasts. I mean, not in a sexual way. Tried to look at reflection in window to see what would look like as a girl.  
  
“What are you doing?” Molly was watching me.  
“Wondering whether I have the bone structure to pull off a bob.”  
“No, you’d look much better with it long. Or short. It’s too curly otherwise,” Molly reached out and pulled my hair down straight like a bob, and then up on top of my head. She was right.  
“I’d be a good girl.” I told her.  
“I would hate you if you were a girl. Far too pretty.” Molly dropped a fistful of curls.  
“I would hate you if you were a boy.”  
“Hm?”  
“I’d actually have to fancy you, and you’re far too good for me.”  
“Oh shut up.” But she looked pleased.  
  
 **1730** Oh my. He texted me. He texted me. John Watson in my phone. “7pm odd time to see flat. Would prefer about five? Can get dinner to properly discuss things after. John.” Should I text him now? Or wait? Which would be cool. Don’t want to seem creepily infatuated. What should I say? Too eager and he’ll think I’m sad. Too laid back and he’ll think I’ve changed my mind.  
  
“That would be great, don’t mind as long as you’re there.” That’s weird.  
“Dear John, I would be delighted” What?  
“Johnny!” No.  
“Hi John. Would be super to meet” Oh god have turned into yuppie. This is ridiculous. Am grown man. Capable of texting other grown man.  
“That would be fine. SH.”  
Oh god that was really snotty. He’s going to think I’m terrible.  
  
  
 **January 30th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 15 Flatmates 1 (Hurrah!) Flats 1 (Hurrah!) Cases 1 (Hurrah!) Annoying Brothers Still 1 (Huh)_  
  
 **1430** Molly told me I wasn’t allowed in the lab until I stopped being so jumpy. She was the one who snuck up on me, she shouldn’t do that when I’m holding coffee. I’ve always had the instincts of a cat in a mouse-trap factory. Don’t see why that would be a reason for cat to have heightened awareness. In fact, surely presence of mouse-traps would allow for laziness, since cat would not have to hunt mice and things. Anyway, the whole point of lab coats is that you can just bleach them. She’s so unreasonable sometimes. And violent.  
  
 **1650** Doctor John Watson, retired army medic (oh my) still hasn’t arrived. Hunched in cab so not forced to wait on doorstep or with Mrs Hudson, like she is my Mum and it’s the first day of school. Hope he likes the flat. Will have to be at my most charming. Oh, here comes a taxi. Must be cool. Charming. Nice.  
  
 **1715** A case! Couldn’t come at a worse time though. But four suicides. Can’t pass it up. Could take John with me. Like a date. What kind of date is a crime scene? Dates should be dinner, and movies and things. Dull though. Also, when at the cinema with a date, there are no visual cues. Should one take their hand? What if they were only reaching for popcorn and you just grab them? They might think that you didn’t want them to eat any more popcorn. Then they’d get all offended because you think they’re fat, or that you didn’t want to share. Or if you try to do that arm over the shoulder thing and poke them in the eye, or in the ear or just misjudge the whole thing and smack them in the face. Maybe if I take him out for dinner afterwards? Then it follows the date format, right?  
  
 **1745** “That was amazing.”  
“Quite extraordinary.” Oh my.  
  
 **1815** Hate Anderson. Hate Donovan. John looked completely ridiculous in stupid overalls. Should leave him in jumpers that means he looks harmless even though he’s not. He thinks I’m extraordinary.  
  
 **1825** “That’s fantastic.” Oh my. Lestrade raised his eyebrows at me in a meaningful way. I now have twenty-two IDs.  
  
 **1840** Knew I could find the suitcase. And John Watson (oh my) thinks I’m extraordinary. What am I forgetting? Oh. The date. Oh no...  
  
 **1900** I have the measure of you now John Watson. (Oh my.) Well, it probably will end up being dangerous.  
  
 **1915** Text from Mycroft: “He seems fine. Keep him.” Fat annoying interfering kidnapping bureaucratic pea-brained fat GIT. What does he know?  
  
 **1945** Took John to Angelo’s for second half of date. Was possessed by unhelpful demon.  
  
Him: "You have a girlfriend?” Promising.  
Me: "Girls not really my area."  
"Oh...so do you have a boyfriend? Which is fine." Even if I did I would have dumped him by now because you think I’m extraordinary.  
"I know it's fine." Wait, what are you doing?  
"So you have a boyfriend." SAY NO.  
"No." Good.  
"Oh, okay. So you're unattached then. Just like me. Fine, good." Just like you. Chorus of angels please.  
"... John, erm...” Wait, what are you about to say? “I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work.” Wait. Abort. “And while I'm flattered...” Abort abort. “I'm not really looking for any-- " Abort abort abort. OH GOD why aren’t you aborting?  
"No, no, that's not what I... no! I'm just saying... it's all fine." Great. Well done.  
“... Good. Thank you." No. Not good. Extremely ungood.  
  
 **2030** Lestrade is such a git. He knows about the Emergency Box under the bed. Luckily Anderson couldn’t find his own bottom without a map.  
  
 **0245** John Watson shot a man. I owe him my life. And that’s fine. He thinks I’m extraordinary.  
  
 **0300** “Married to my work.” Shoot me now. Please.  
  
 **0310** John Watson thinks I’m extraordinary.  
  
 **0315** Wonder if I was actually right about pill.  
  
  
 **January 31th**. _Nicotine patches 3 (John disapproves of more) Cigarettes 0 (John) Flatmates 1 Need for a cigarette 30000000000000000000_  
  
 **0830** What do you do when the perfect man is sleeping on your couch? Apart from watch him from the kitchen table.  
  
 **0832** He’s all curled up like a puppy or kitten. Must do something nice for Mike soon.  
  
 **0837** Texted Mike. “Do you need a baby-sitter any time soon? Completely free.”  
  
 **0940** Should I make him some tea? He’s moving about more. Maybe he’s waking up.  
  
 **0942** Mike texted. “LOL” What is that supposed to mean?  
  
 **0948** “Are you watching me sleep?” Realised watching flatmate sleep, even from kitchen, is odd behaviour.  
  
“No.” Smooth. “Made you tea.”  
  
“Is it always like this?” Wave takes in mess from phony drugs bust (Emergency Box was moved. Bless Lestrade, not as stupid as he looks) and detritus of last night’s Chinese (we arrived too late to actually eat at the restaurant).  
  
“Usually it’s tidier.” I smile. I think I look a bit scary when I smile or something. Must have a look in mirror soon.  
“I’d certainly hope so.” I love it when he smiles. His eyes crinkle and his mouth goes all curly.  
There’s a moment of silence where he drinks tea and I watch the sun shine through his hair. He thinks I’m extraordinary.  
“Well, I suppose I can bring my stuff today. There’s not a lot of it really.”  
“Really?” Hope I didn’t sound too eager.  
“Uh, sure.” I did sound too eager, now he’s worried I’m some sort of mad person who will boil his pet rabbit. Great. He stretched and twisted his spine. “Not spending another night on this sofa, that’s for sure.”  
“Are you alright?” Showing concern is normal, right?  
“Yes, just a little stiff. Not twenty-four any more I suppose.”  
  
 **1200** Mike’s helping him move his stuff across. I’m sitting in the dent he left on the sofa. That probably is weird. Dangerously obsessed. Mycroft texted. “Congratulations on not scaring the poor man off.” Hate him. Sent him entire alphabet, one letter a text. Felt better. Should tidy up. Do not want John to think am slob.  
  
 **1215** Mrs Hudson came up looking worried. Apparently my cleaning sounds like the ceiling’s about to give in. She helped me dust and put some books away.  
  
“He’s nice, isn’t he?”  
“Who?” As though I didn’t know.  
“That Doctor. I’m glad he’s staying.” She patted my arm companionably.  
“He thinks I’m extraordinary.” Traitorous mouth.  
“That’s nice, dear.” She patted me on the back and left me in the middle of a pile of books.  
  
 **1345** Would kill whole world for cigarette. Except John Watson. Although he would not approve of killing whole world to satisfy addiction. Maybe if I just killed China. Would he still think I was extraordinary?  
  
 **1530** John came back  just as was about to sneak out for cigarette. All his stuff appears to be two boxes and a suitcase.  
  
“I’ve got some stuff in storage still,” he explained. I helped him up the second flight of stairs. Second bedroom not as big as mine, but just the right size for John. I opened the curtains. Not much light. Maybe if I rigged a mirror he could have more light. But what if he doesn’t want more light? He might be blinded, or only be able to sleep in full dark, or the mirror would beam his image to the outside world. Maybe I could put up another mirror that would show the first mirror so I could see it from my room. Wait, that might be bad.  
  
“Sherlock,” he said. “What are you staring at?” Oh god what do you say to that? “Go make some tea.” Delightfully strict, but amused at the same time.  
  
 **1739** He’s sitting in his chair reading. It’s definitely his chair. It’s perfect. Does this mean all chairs are made for one specific person, and they’re just waiting for that one person? The one true chair. What would happen if they never found that one person though? Think about the number of chairs in the world as opposed to the number of people. For example, we have four kitchen chairs, as well as the sofa- would that count as more than one chair? Bet it could fit several people on. Or one Mycroft. Does that mean sofas are like the polygamists of the chair world? Wonder if I could test this. Obviously have found John Watson’s chair. Maybe I could get him to sit in a different chair. Would that work? How would I get him to sit in a different chair without making him aware of the experiment.  
  
“Sherlock, what are you staring at?”  
“Do you think sofas are polygamists?”  
“What?” What?  
  
 **2030** He’s fallen asleep in front of the television. In his chair. And he thinks I’m extraordinary.  
  
 **2114** Found a tag under the sofa. It said 100% POLY. That proves it then.  
  
 **2124** “Sherlock, what on earth are you doing under my chair?”  
“Looking for the 100% POLY tag.”  
“What?”  
“Under the chair. Which is why I was under there.” And he just looked at me. Think I may be a little hysterical.


	2. February Part One

**February 1st.** _Nicotine patches 4 Cigarette 1 (snuck out to buy milk) Flatmates 1 (glorious)_  
  
 **0830** Someone sent a cypher. Should probably decode, just in case. Can hear John thumping about though. Should I go out there? Or stay in my room?  
  
 **0840** He’s in the shower. Should I rush out and make him toast? Would that be weird?  
  
 **0845** Put the kettle on, just in time to see him wander by in a dressing-gown.  
“Oh, hello.”  
“Uh...” I suddenly couldn’t think of a thing to say. “Tea?” Articulate.  
“Yeah, I’m just going to get dressed.” And he smiled. I like his smile. It’s all curly.  
  
 **0900** Start of perfect life with John Watson who thinks I’m extraordinary.  
  
 **0930** “SHERLOCK! WHY are there EYES in the MICROWAVE?”  
  
 **0935** Huh. Going to morgue.  
  
 **1130** Went to see Molly. “That was you? I thought it was one of the interns. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to explain why someone with two eyes now only has one?” And she threw a pen and it nearly hit me right on the arm.  
  
 **1140** Sharing woes with Mike. “What is it with you and microwaves?”  
Huh.  
  
 **1200** Took Molly some custard creams. She was all giggly because the new intern keeps giving her the glad-eye, despite being about twelve.  
  
“He could be your toyboy.”  
“I’m not that old.”  
“I think you’d enjoy having a toyboy.”  
“Shut up.”  
  
Then he came in and Molly said. “Sherlock, this is Neville.” He was all young and swaggering and he’d got these ridiculous tight trousers that made him look like a pigeon. And he tried to squeeze my hand in some sort of dominance thing, which was clearly mad because I have a good half a foot on him.  
“Alright? You can call me Noddy.”  
Molly bit her clipboard.  
Think I may be a bit hysterical.  
  
 **1215** Toyboy kept hanging around. Told him to fetch me some Fallopian tubes from Molly. Molly told me to be nice, and remember what happened to Gary.  
  
 **1220** He’s still hanging around.  
“What are you writing?”  
“Notes.”  
“Oh. ‘Ere, what about that Hooper?”  
“What about her?”  
“Are you and her-” And he did this bizarre hand movement eyebrow wiggle thing. Thought he was having a stroke or similar.  
“What?”  
“You know...”  
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
“Oh. Well.” He went all deflated and shuffled off. What on earth just happened?  
  
 **1225** “What did you do to Neville?”  
“You mean Noddy?”  
She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”  
“Nothing at all.” And that’s actually true this time.  
“He’s gone all mopey.”  
“Maybe you need to tap him on the head and set him nid-nodding again.”  
And she started giggling again. Quite mad, that one.  
  
 **1245** Molly says I should offer to do something nice for John, like replace microwave, or at least clean it out. Also return eyes, because even if no longer have bodies she can at least dispose of them properly.  
  
 **1430** Cleaned out microwave and Molly said she would come over to pick up eyes later. Suspect she actually wants to scope out John. I’m onto her.  
  
 **1630** Suddenly realised it’s Valentines Day in thirteen days. February is such an odd month. It’s shorter than the other months. By at least two days. Seems a little unfair. Also unequal. It’s got a gimpy quarter day flapping around that it has to save up. Like it’s the child of January and March and they give it pocket money every year. What would a month spend a day on? Moths? The moon? Maybe the reason it has less days is because January and March stole them so they could have thirty-one instead. Would that count as child abuse? February seems to get along fine without them, even has treat of extra day every four years. Is that enough? Does it ever feel ostracised by other months for being a little too short?  
  
“Sherlock, you’ve been staring at that calendar for five minutes. Forgotten something?”  
“Do you think February feels cheated?”  
“No, I think it would feel okay. It’s got the most romantic day of the year in it. And it gets an extra day once every four years.” John put down his paper.  
“But if January and March both gave up their extra days they could give them to February.”  
“But then there are still five months with thirty-one days.”  
“That’s not the problem here, the problem is January and March abusing their power over February.”  
“What?”  
“Well, it’s not really fair, is it? It just has a quarter-day flapping around that it has to save up. It’s not even like it gets interest and can have another one on top every eight years.”  
“You’ve thought quite a lot about this, haven’t you?”  
Oh god, what’s the normal answer to that?  
“Extraordinary.” He picked the paper back up. “Quite, quite bonkers.”  
  
 **1707** He thinks I’m extraordinary.  
  
 **1708** And bonkers.  
  
 **1709** Should probably try and be less bonkers. After all, am consulting detective. Bonkers is not something one desires in a master of the deductive arts.  
  
 **1711** If you think about the word bonkers for too long it doesn’t make sense any more. Bonkers bonkers bonkers bonkers. Bonkers. Bon kers. Bonnnkers.  
  
 **1716** Wonder if it would be odd to get flatmate Valentine’s card. What would I put in it? Most Valentine’s cards are so trite. Could get a blank card and write own message. Might be a little odd though. What would I put?  
“You think I’m extraordinary.” He knows that though.  
“I sometimes wonder if you’re as compact as that jumper implies.” What does that even mean?  
“Hey baby, I would like to make sweet sweet lo” No.  
“I want to do things to you that would make a dead person blush.” That sounds like necrophilia.  
“I would like to try and fit you as well as the chair fits you.” No, that’s mental.  
  
 **1830** Molly came over and picked up eyes. John smiled at her and she went all weird and fluttery. May have to kill her. When he turned round she grinned and gave me the thumbs up. What is that supposed to mean?  
  
 **1900** Ooh, maybe John will get me a card despite Married To My Work Fiasco.  
  
 **2000** Oh. Obviously. It’s a Caesar shift cypher. How dull. ‘I am watching you’. Mental. Or maybe it’s Mycroft. Texted ‘Beware the Ides of March’ just in case. Text back: ‘What?’ Not him then.  
  
 **2005** What if it’s my fan? Never had a fan before. Are they all this mental? Bet I could trace the IP address. Would that just encourage them? I could send them an autograph. ‘Please stop watching me, I’m really not that interesting. Love, Sherlock’. What if I got lots of fans? I could have a form letter. ‘I don’t know what you want from me’. Could do interviews on television about deducing things. Remember watching a video of the Beatles with all these girls screaming and crying. I don’t want girls to scream and cry after me, would be lunacy. Maybe just a couple of girls. When I was having a bad day.  
  
 **2010** Googled self. Own website. Theimprobableone, creepy pervert that he clearly is, has set up fan website. Googled Moriarty. Quite a common name, also an [actor in New Zealand. ](http://www.nzonscreen.com/person/jim-moriarty)Wonder if he might be my fan. Quite hard to watch someone from the other side of the world though. Maybe has a satellite. Do they even have satellites in NZ? Thought it was full of sheep. Presumably sheep have to use the internet too though.  
  
 **2012** Saw movie trailer for Lord of the Rings (apparently filmed there). Full of Elves and things. Do Elves have mobiles or internet? Presumably they have things like that. Or would they use magic? Apparently New Zealand has been around since the Victorian times. You’d hope even a bunch of magical creatures and sheep would have come up with a society of sorts. Heath care and so on.  
  
 **2015** They could call it the National Elf Service.  
  
 **2020** “Sherlock, is that my computer?”  
“No.” Maybe. Yes.  
“Why are you Googling fairies?”  
“Trying to find out if there’s a National Elf Service in New Zealand.”  
Think I may be a bit hysterical.  
  
 **0300** Heard noise in John’s room.He was tossing and turning- noise was book falling off bed. Muttering things. Nightmares. I didn’t know what to do. So I left again. Was that the right thing to do?  
  
  
 **February 2nd**. _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 0 (I WANT ONE NOW) Facts about John Watson 14_  
  
 **1045** We have Hobnobs but no custard creams.  
“We’re out of custard creams.”  
“Are we?”  
“Why haven’t you got more?”  
“Because I prefer Hobnobs, and you haven’t been shopping.” Huh.  
  
 **1150** I can’t believe he prefers Hobnobs. Unnatural.  
  
 **1115** “Why do you prefer Hobnobs?”  
“They dunk better than custard creams.”  
“But then you get little oaty bits in your tea.”  
“I don’t mind. At least I don’t torture them like you do.”  
I looked down at the custard cream I was eating.  
“What?”  
“Pull them apart and then eat their insides.”  
“It’s a mercy killing.”  
“It’s murder.”  
“Tasty tasty murder.”  
Think I might be a bit hysterical.  
  
 **1325** Mycroft called with a case. Told him to go away. He asked me how the list was going. Hate him.  
  
 **1400** Ooh. Mike says John has a blog.  
  
 **1415** Arrogant and rude. Pompous.  
  
 **1417** Quite fancy the sound of imperious though. Maybe I should leave him a note.  
  
 **1420** “Sherlock, do you have my laptop? Again?”  
He stopped when he saw what I was looking at.  
“Oh.” How awkward. Definitely not good to be caught looking at someone’s private blog, especially when some of it is about you.  
“Mike showed me. Do you really think I’m pompous?” Where did that come from? Sound like teen girl asking boy ‘Do you like me?’  
“A little, I suppose. Sorry.”  
“But you think I’m extraordinary.” He blinked.  
“Yes.” Then we were just sort of stuck looking at each other. Like owls. Or pigeons. I think I would be better as an owl. Ability to see all the way round very useful. Although throwing up after every meal could be unpleasant. But it’s only the bits they can’t digest. Suppose that would make food preparation easier. Could just swallow whole packet of custard creams. (Not that I would ever eat whole packet of custard creams; would be greedy, not to mention fattening.)  
“John?”  
“Yes, Sherlock?”  
“Would you want to be an owl or a pigeon?”  
  
 **1420** Rude, arrogant, pompous, imperious. And now I am a madman. He was laughing though.  
  
 **1421** And extraordinary.  
  
 **1425** Texted Molly re: pompous rude madman.  
  
 **1515** Emergency meeting with Molly.  
“He said I was rude and arrogant and imperious and pompous.” I said it perfectly normally. How else would I have said it?  
“Well, you are, especially when you get going and do the deducing thing. Or if you’re nervous. Or if you think someone’s being deliberately stupid. Or accidentally dense. Or an experiment’s gone funny. Or when a case is being slow or annoying. Or when the cafeteria runs out of those donuts you like-” I threw a custard cream at her.  
“THE POINT IS that he still thinks I’m extraordinary.”  
“Well? You are.”  
“But he said that-”  
“Yes, and you are rude and pompous and imperious and arrogant. But you’re also extraordinary. It is possible to be both.”  
Hmm.  
  
 **1530** Noddy insists hanging around whilst I’m trying to work. If he says “What are you doing?” one more time I am going to scream.  
  
 **1540** Did no one teach this boy not to disturb others whilst they’re working? Tempted to accidentally spill bile on his horrible t-shirt. Who on earth are Owl City, anyway?  
  
 **1545** Give up. I cannot get this experiment to work, and I may have to actually kill Noddy. I never even liked him as a child, far too cheerful. Not the toyboy. The toy who was a boy. Except he wasn’t, because there was that one picture of him and he was completely smooth all over. But I suppose ‘it’ would be impolite. Always mildly perturbed that he had a creepy older man as best friend, and lived in a supposedly utopic world where retarded foreigner was put on trial to defend status as a person despite being model citizen. Also racial stereotypes. And he was a taxi driver.  
  
 **1600** And actually, Noddy was always in trouble with the the law as well. Why didn’t I see the signs sooner? Obviously a serial killer waiting to happen, living amongst innocent toys, pretending to be simple in order to win their trust. Bet he was already planning how to persuade Mr. Sparks to eat... What would be poison? Jam tarts? Honey? No, that was Winnie the Pooh. Winnie the Pooh would be first to be murdered though. Not by Noddy though, completely different.  
  
 **1605** Probably by Piglet, egged on by Owl. Owl would be the dominant personality. Piglet would just do as he said. Christopher Robin would return from school to find Piglet poking Pooh’s stuffing into his torso, in order to take on his powers. Owl would be wearing a fine new fur hat, and using Eeyore’s tail as a bell-pull.  
  
 **1635** Ooh, could just fancy some biscuits.  
  
 **1730** John was going to the shop. “Anything you need?”  
  
 **1740** John Watson thinks I’m extraordinary and now he’s bringing me custard creams.  
  
 **1745** That is literally all I can think about.  
  
  
 **February 3rd.** _Nicotine patches 3 Cigarettes 7 (SO GOOD)_  
  
 **1450** Noddy the toyboy was hanging around again.  
“What are you writing?”  
“Notes.”  
“Oh. Look. I were talking-”  
“Was talking.”  
“What?”  
“It’s not were, it’s was. You’re a middle-class student from Epcot. You have no excuse for that sort of language.”  
“Uh... Yeah. Well, I was talking to Daphne, right?” Oh, that incorrigible old bat. “And she said that like, nothing was happening between you two.”  
“Well?”  
“You told me there was.”  
“No, I didn’t.”  
“You said-” Ah, at last the penny drops. How can he be at university but be so dim?  
“Well done.”  
“Oh, right.” He relaxed, slouching his shoulders and tucking his hands into the pockets of his tight jeans. “So do you reckon I’ve got like, a chance?”  
I looked at him, all young with tight trousers and a hopeful expression and one of those odd modern haircuts that take half an hour to make you look like you just rolled out of bed and said:  
“No. Not in a million years.”  
“Oh. Why?”  
“Because you’ve got stupid trousers and a ridiculous haircut. And you ask stupid questions. And you listen to your iPod ridiculously loud when people are trying to concentrate. And you don’t eat custard creams properly, and most of all, you’re about twelve for god’s sake. What you would you do? Take her to youth club?”  
He just rushed off. Too sensitive for his own good that one.  
  
 **1505** Waiting for taxi. Molly threw me out of the morgue. Apparently I am rude and pompous and imperious and arrogant. And then she threw a hole-punch at me. Would have tried to reason with her but she was really cross, and the only thing left to hand after the hole-punch was Noddy.  
  
 **1510** Ugh. Mycroft picked me up. Most insistent I take a look at a case. Says he won’t drop me home till I do. I’m not going to take it.  
  
 **1515** I’m taking the case. He might crush me with his enormous bottom if I don’t. It might actually be interesting. And I don’t suppose I’ll be allowed back at the morgue again for a bit, till I can create a force-field that will repel hole-punches.  
  
 **1517** A dustbin lid would probably do it.  
  
  
 **February 8th.** _Nicotine patches 4 Cigarettes 0 (AGH)_  
  
 **1726** Today I solved a case and John Watson looked at me as though I was extraordinary. Considered flinging myself across the room shouting ‘Take me now’, but I’m not some bimbo from a cliched romantic comedy.  
  
 **1727** John could be played by Jude Law.  
  
 **1728** And Lestrade was there.  
  
 **1731** “John, who do you think would play me if they made a movie of me?”  
“I dunno. Some tall, dark and handsome type I suppose.” He thinks I’m handsome? “Alan Rickman perhaps?”  
“Oh.” Is he handsome?  
“Why, who would you prefer?”  
“Oh, I don’t know.” Christopher Lee of course.  
“Robert Downey Junior?”  
“No! The man’s a clown.”  
“I think that’s a bit unfair.” Huh.  
“What about Timothy Dalton?”  
“So you fancy yourself as the James Bond type, do you?” Who? “What about Sean Connery?”  
“No, he’s got all baggy and fat. He can be Mycroft.”  
“Well, who do you think would play me?”  
Jude Law. Colin Firth. Liam Neeson.  
“Who’s that little ginger man? The one from the zombie film in the pub.” Wait. What?  
“You mean Simon Pegg?” No.  
“Yes.” What? Shut up, you’re ruining it.  
“But he’s so little and ginger.” I know. I KNOW.  
“He could dye his hair.” Look, just shut up, will you?  
“And he’s got that West Country accent. No one would take me seriously.”  
“Unless you were in the West Country.” Why would we be in the West Country? It’s all sheep and old people who look like sheep.  
“So you’d take us out of London and put us in the West Country?” No. Never.  
“If it meant you’d be taken seriously.” Well, I suppose.  
“So what you’re saying is, in the movie of our lives, you would take us out of London and put us in the West Country.”  
“Well...” Apparently.  
“It’d basically be Midsummer Murders. You’d be Miss Marple. I could just see you in a twin-set and pearls.”  
“I think I’d look good in pearls.”  
“Not sure lavender is your colour though.”  
Think I may be a bit hysterical.  
  
  
 **February 9th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 5 (Glory) Amount of time spent appreciating and researching art 4 hours Amount of time appreciating John Watson 6 hours (Must limit, verging on obsessive)_  
  
 **1403** Mrs Mike called. “I want you to understand you weren’t my first choice, but Mike would like you to take Simon for a day this weekend. For Valentine’s Day. Apparently you owe him?”  
  
 **1403** Apparently am banned from taking small child to park.  
  
 **1404** Or the morgue. (How did she find out about that?)  
  
 **1405** Or the animatronic dinosaurs. That’s fine, they were kind of rubbish anyway.  
  
 **1406** Don’t understand mothers. Determined to suck any fun out of life.  
  
 **1407** Texted Mike “Suggested small child activities?”  
“Something cultural? Art gallery? Just try not to roll him in the mud this time.” Hmm.  
  
 **1508** Ooh, I could take John with us. Bet John would make a great father. Is that Freudian? I don’t want him to be my father. Don’t even like my father. Vicious old fool. Anyway, if John was father, would imply wife who wasn’t me. Unless could impregnate self or him. If it was a choice would prefer baby to have John’s features, since they are infinitely more interesting than mine.  
  
 **1509** Could give baby my nose though. And maybe my height. And brain.  
  
 **1510** But I suppose John would prefer to be father rather than mother. Which would be good re: nose, height, brain.  
  
 **1512** I couldn’t get pregnant. None of my trousers would fit.  
  
 **1520** John says he’ll come to the art gallery with us.  
  
 **1530** Oh god I don’t know anything about art.  
  
 **1535** Hmm. “Art is the product or process of deliberately arranging items (often with symbolic significance) in a way that influences and affects one or more of the senses, emotions, and intellect. It encompasses a diverse range of human activities, creations, and modes of expression.”  
  
 **1540** “Sherlock, what on earth is this? In the butter-dish?”  
“Art!”  
  
 **1550** Apparently what was in the butter dish was not, nor ever would be art. Even if I added an urn, which my research leads me to believe is an integral part of the process.  
  
 **1553** “I don’t care if it influences your damn intellect. Get rid of it!” Philistine.  
  
  
 **February 10th**. _Nicotine patches 7 Cigarettes 0 (small child) Amount of time appreciating art 3 hours Amount of time appreciating John Watson 4 hours (better)_  
  
 **0930** Picked up small child. Mike and Mrs Mike want him in bed by the time they get back. Seems easy enough.  
  
 **1320** John good with child. Suppose he would be, what with being a doctor and all.  
  
 **2200** I think that rather well, all in all.  
  
 **2230** Mike texted. Apparently Mrs Mike found Simon’s clothes. Oh.  
  
 **2245** I put them in to soak. I think she’s being very unreasonable.  
  
 **2250** I didn’t know that they would have finger-painting on today.  
  
 **2253** Or that paint could go so far.  
  
 **2255** Or so high.  
  
 **2300** John was watching me on the phone to Mrs Mike and giggling. Apparently I looked like I’d just been put on time out. I do like when he laughs though.  
  
 **2330** He’s put my finger-painting on the fridge with a caption: ‘Sherlock’s Masterpiece.’ Huh.  
  
  
 **February 11th**. _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 2 Cases 0 0 0_  
  
 **1000** Molly says I’m not allowed back till Noddy’s gone. Huh. Told her to enjoy her toyboy.  
  
 **1300** Bored.  
  
 **1400** BORED.  
  
 **1500** BOOOORED.  
  
 **1515** There’s no bread.  
  
 **1517** John says that sticking one’s finger into the butter, then into the Marmite and sucking it off is neither good nor civilised. I beg to differ.  
  
 **1520** “Sherlock, if you don’t leave the butter alone I’m going to take it away from you.” How rude.  
  
 **1522** He’s hidden the butter. Could find it, but dying of boredom.  
  
 **1730** “We’ve nothing in.” Why does he think I was eating Marmite with my fingers?  
  
 **1745** Couldn’t persuade John to get take-out. At Tesco Metro. Don’t understand how it combines being so full of things and yet so boring. Also don’t understand why John wanted me to go to the shops with him.  
“Tell me about the lady with the high-heels.”  
“Why?”  
“Because you’ve been watching her. You’ve got to know something about her.”  
“Don’t humour me, it won’t make this any less hellish.”  
“I’m not humouring you. I like your deductions.”  
“You do?” Please try to sound less eager, you’re a wagging tail away from being called a good boy.  
“Yes. Please?” And he smiled at me.  
Maybe shopping isn’t so bad.  
  
  
 **February 12th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 2 Days till Valentine’s Day 2_  
  
 **1340** Don’t understand what the fuss is anyway. Any relevance to actual Saint Valentine completely swamped by cheap chocolate and unrealistic red hearts. Will eschew it entirely.  
  
 **1345** Ooh, maybe I could drop a hint to John about Terry’s Chocolate Orange.  
  
 **1350** Could ask Molly to be Valentine, and use day to celebrate friendship rather than forced heteronormative relationships in rebellion against what society wishes we could be.  
  
 **1352** Texted Molly ‘Be my Valentine to show eschewing of society forcing everyone into heteronormative relationships’.  
  
 **1353** Text back: ‘Only if something better doesn’t come along.’ Huh.  
  
 **1355** What am I, fifteen? And a lesbian?  
  
 **1400** John says he’s going out with friends to drink beer and talk about girls or something tonight. Whatever it is those rugby types talk about. He says I’m not allowed to come. Huh. Didn’t want to go anyway.  
  
 **1930** This place is so quiet. Went to see Mrs Hudson, but she was out. Think I’ll play violin for a bit.  
  
 **2300** Oh god. He just rolled in holding a bag of chips like a bouquet of flowers. I think he’s drunk.  
  
 **2305** He is drunk. He put the kettle on, called me his best mate in the wholllllle world and then fell on the couch like sack of potatoes or similar.  
  
 **2310** I made him some tea. He’s eating chips and giggling about some person called ‘Bowser’. Who is Bowser? Apart from type of person who thinks ‘Bowser’ is an acceptable name. Probably has no neck and sticking out ears. Red face. Shouts a lot. Drinks Guinness and slaps one on the back with hand the size of a dinner plate whilst laughing heartily. Sounds a lot like awful Uncle Boris actually.  
  
 **2315** I think he’s asleep. He’s still holding onto the chips.  
  
 **2317** Trapped. All I did was sit next to him on the couch. And he sort of slumped on me. Every time I try and move he cuddles in closer. Is this how a teddy bear feels? Wish I still had a teddy bear so I could apologise to it.  
  
 **2320** Very sweet when he cuddles though. Like baby hedgehog- FOCUS.  
  
 **2321** I can’t reach my tea.  
  
 **2323** Texted Mike: ‘Trapped under flatmate. Advice?’  
  
 **2324** ‘Celebrate?’ Oh isn’t he just the wit.  
  
 **2325** It is kind of lovely though- FOCUS.  
  
 **2326** My arm is going numb.  
  
 **2328** I suppose if he woke up I could tell him I was just trying to get him into bed. Because of his shoulder. Which is currently tucked under my arm in a very well-fitting way- FOCUS.  
  
 **2330** Ha! Escape!  
  
 **2331** Have pins and needles in arm. Who would have thought he was so heavy?  
  
 **2332** Put blanket over John.  
  
 **2335** Probably should not think about hefting flatmate into water bath to prove he is unnaturally dense. Would hate to prove Sally right at this stage in the game.  
  
  
 **13th February.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 3_  
  
 **0930** He’s still on the couch all curled up. He’s drooling a little.  
  
 **0931** He’s using one hand as a pillow. The other is clutching the blanket.  
  
 **0932** He just rolled into the back of the sofa about 23 degrees. Hmm. Wonder if that means he likes the left side of the bed?  
  
 **0933** Or if he just likes to snuggle.  
  
 **0934** Can’t believe just associated the word snuggle with John Watson. Inherently ridiculous word. Snuggle. Snugggggle. Snuuuuggle Snu ggle. Clearly it’s the gle part. If it was ‘snug’ it wouldn’t be nearly as bad. John Watson (who thinks I’m extraordinary) is snugged into the couch.  
  
 **0935** He’s rolled over about 10 degrees, and it’s made him snore. Little snuffly noises. Whilst snugged into a blanket.  
  
 **0936** He rolled 160 degrees onto his back, yawned and stretched. Pointed toes, stretched fingers.  
  
 **0937** Snugs face into pillow, goes back to sleep.  
  
 **0938** Rolls over 90 degrees. Obviously catches old wound. Sits up and says “Ow.”  
  
 **0939** “Sherlock, are you watching me sleep?”  
“No.”  
“What are you writing?” Oh god.  
“Notes. Nothing you’d understand.” Good save.  
“A case?”  
“Not exactly.”  
“Oh.” And then he staggered off, rubbing his shoulder.  
  
 **0945** Made John a cup of tea and aspirin.  
“You’re a saviour.”  
  
 **0948** No one’s ever called me their saviour before.  
  
 **0951** I am John Watson’s saviour and he thinks I’m extraordinary.  
  
 **1000** Bored. John is sitting on the couch staring into space. Think I might play violin for a bit.  
  
 **1145** “Sherlock. If you do not stop. With that damn violin.”  
Then what? You have to finish the sentence or it’s not a threat.  
  
 **1150** Apparently I am a a bloody nuisance.  
  
 **1151** How can one be a bloody nuisance and a saviour? Does one cancel out the other? Lestrade called with a case. Solved it over the phone. Wish he wouldn’t bore me so.  
“Oh, before you go. Is it possible to be a bloody nuisance and a saviour?”  
“Trouble in Paradise?” I could hear him smirking. Hate him.  
“Just answer the question.”  
“In your case, definitely. In fact, I think he’s hit on the perfect description for you.”  
Hmm.  
  
 **1350** Ooh, Valentine’s Day tomorrow.  
  
 **1351** John is being dull anyway. Went to Speedy’s for fried egg sandwich (which is a crime all by itself) and then has spent quite a lot of today lying on couch watching a movie.  
  
 **1355** “We’re out of custard creams.”  
“Good, get some milk whilst you’re out.”  
Huh.  
  
 **1420** At shop looking at Valentine’s Day stuff. Why would anyone buy someone else a teddy-bear that says ‘I wuv oo’ when squeezed? Even writing it down causes me pain.  
  
 **1415** Flowers also seem impractical. I suppose one is trying to say that the recipient is as pretty as a flower. But that also implies that when the prettiness inevitably withers, one will toss aside loved one because usefulness has ended. Seems quite mercenary. Or if one is trying to speak of love, then your love is like a flower? Which also will wilt and die once the initial bloom has worn off. Conclusion: Flowers are expensive and useless. Also show that any good feelings towards Valentine are fleeting at best, and the rest of the time you are just waiting for them to dry up so you can throw them out.  
  
 **1416** Could give flowers to Mycroft.  
  
 **1440** Got home and realised had forgotten custard creams.  
  
 **1445** Text from Molly. ‘Noddy’s asked for a transfer. Corpse exploded on him. Poor boy may never be the same again.’  
  
 **1447** How do you get a corpse to explode on you? I mean, I’ve managed it but never by accident.  
  
 **1448** Told John was allowed back at Barts. He cheered. Huh.  
  
 **1450** Oh. Should get Molly some sort of Valentine’s thing I suppose.


	3. February Part Two

**February 14th**. _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 5 Valentine’s 1 (but was from Molly)_  
  
 **1005** No card or anything. But is early yet.  
  
 **1200** Still nothing. John has spent morning reading, shows no sign of any sort of gesture, romantic or otherwise. Scratched his nose once though.  
  
 **1205** John received a text. Raised eyebrows.  
“Harry says she might be able to set me up with one of her friends tonight.”  
“Well?” Say no say no say no say-  
“I haven’t got anything else on.”  
Huh. Going to morgue.  
  
 **1210** Molly gave me Terry’s Chocolate Orange. I gave her a Milk Tray, which she seems to think is the height of taste. Terry’s is better. It’s a chocolate shaped like an orange, a curiously satisfying confection.  
  
 **1215** Shared some of Milk Tray over tea.  
“So why aren’t you off with your hot doctor?”  
“His sister has got him a date.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry.”  
“Why would you be sorry?”  
She looked non-plussed. “Because... It’s Valentine’s Day and your ideal Valentine is off with another girl?”  
“Valentine’s Day is ridiculous anyway; I don’t understand why you would bother even trying when the other person is just going to cheat on you and dump you over the phone whilst their new lover giggles in the background.”  
“Er...” Molly was looking at me oddly. Then she got out the custard creams.  
  
 **1230** Feel better for talking to Molly. She says that I should not allow my past to rule my present, and also realise that I do not need a physical relationship to be happy, and instead should cultivate close platonic relationships, based on mutual trust, respect and interests.  
“And custard creams?”  
“And custard creams.” And she handed me another one.  
  
 **1530** Molly just left early. She has a date. Huh.  
  
 **1545** Oops. Have accidentally knocked all the paper-clips into the bin. Can’t use them now; they’ll be dirty. Will have to get some from Molly’s office.  
  
 **1600** Molly left Google open. Well. She left her computer on. Well. I accidentally knocked the power-button and though I should make sure that it didn’t stop anything from working. Which can sometimes happen.  
  
 **1700** She also left her e-mail logged in. Well. She left it open. There was a shortcut on her desktop. Date uses ‘u’ instead of ‘you’ and smiley faces like punctuation. Also clearly called Laurence but calls himself ‘Lar’. What is that all about?  
  
 **1730** Route home took me past restaurant where Molly was with date. He has dyed the ends of his hair blond and then gelled it up. Amazed she’s even wasting her time with him. Trying to retain youth with stupid hair and horrible shirt. Also tiny beard. Looks like a mouse is desperately clinging to his chin. Mobile expensive, ostentatiously out on table. Packet of cigarettes sticking out of pocket of expensive Italian leather jacket. One of those huge watches that do everything, even though one only uses it to check date/time. Eyes mainly on Molly’s neckline, don’t know if she’s noticed, she’s terrible at things like that. She’s looking quite pretty though. I don’t understand why she doesn’t wear blue more often.  
  
 **1735** Oh, there’s a coffee shop across the road. I might just stop for a bit.  
  
 **1845** They seem to be getting on alright. Something not right about him. Very white teeth though.  
  
 **1900** Molly must have gone to freshen up. He paid, and is now waiting outside in his car.  
  
 **1930** Knew there was something off about him. Tan line where a wedding ring should be. Company car had a child’s toy in the back. Long receipt tucked into ash-tray, longer than a recent bachelor paying child support, legal fees, would need. Also saw the word ‘tampons’. Needed to be tactful though. Tapped on the window and made that bizarre rolling-down motion everyone does despite the fact modern cars have buttons now.  
  
“So, I suppose you’re a recent divorcee.”  
“Er... Yes...” He looked wary. One hand instantly flew to where his ring used to be, and then forced itself down again. So dull when they telegraph their guilt.  
“And the toy in the back is your... Nephew’s?”  
“Yes.” Suspicious now, but smooth. Practised that one.  
“And you’ve been doing your sister’s shopping?”  
“What?”  
I indicated the receipt. His hand darted to it.  
  
“Oh, but surely if it’s just your sister’s shopping, you’ve nothing to hide.” His hand slowly moved away.  
“Sorry, I’ve been staying at hers since the divorce.” He smiled at me.  
“Sherlock? What on earth are you doing here?”  
“Ah, Molly. Lar here is a good friend of mine. He was just telling me about how he’s been staying at his sister’s.”  
  
She looked from me to him. He was sweating.  
“I thought you said you had your own place?”  
  
 **1945** Apparently I am an interfering nosy arsehole. I also need to research what girls keep in their handbags. I have a feeling bricks are involved. I have bruises all over.  
  
 **1950** I don’t understand why she was so cross. Or why she had to be so violent. Saved her a lot of heartbreak, in the long run.  
  
 **2030** Got home. John was watching television.  
“Causing mischief?” He greeted me.  
“No. What happened to your date?”  
“She got a better offer.” What?  
“Clearly she’s a fool.” Did I say that out loud?  
“What?”  
Apparently I did. Blast. I put on my most innocent expression. He laughed, so maybe it worked.  
“You know, that’s exactly the same expression you use when you try to stealthily insult Lestrade?” Maybe not.  
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
Think I may be a little hysterical.  
  
 **2045** He’s watching the rugby highlights. All these men in little shorts and tight shirts. John used to play rugby- it said on his blog. Wonder if he had to wear those long socks as well. It’s not like he doesn’t have the calf muscles for it. Maybe he still has his old uniform in the closet, tight shorts and all. Oh my.  
“Sherlock, do you want a cup- are you alright?”  
“Er, what?” I bet his arms looked really nice.  
“Well, you’ve gone all red.” Oh no.  
“I’m er. Sitting too close to the fire.” Good save.  
“Right... Tea?”  
“Yes please.” I watched him go through to the kitchen. Tiny shorts. Gosh.  
  
 **2050** The fire isn’t actually lit, I notice.  
  
 **2130** The news is so melodramatic. “The Major’s Madness” indeed. The man is clearly out of his head on steroids.  
  
  
 **February 15th**. _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 4 Cases 1 (Glorious) Amount of time spent thinking about John Watson in his rugby uniform 2 hours (Better)_  
  
 **0930** “Is your morning free?” John was texting someone, very slowly. Don’t know why he bothers with it. Kind of endearing (but everything he does is kind of endearing) but still have to resist urge to snatch it off him.  
“Yes?”  
“I might have a case for you.” Oh my. Christmas.  
“Really?” I am cool. Collected. No hint of a tail wagging. Much.  
“Hide your enthusiasm.” John sounded a little hurt. Too much cool. “At least meet with the man. I knew him in the Army, he’s a good bloke. Says he’ll be over at ten.”  
  
 **1000** It’s that Major from the news. The boxer. Him and John shook hands in a way that looked like it hurt, but he didn’t actually crush my hand, which was nice of him. Oh damn. Left tape recorder at morgue. On Molly’s desk, I think. Asked John to take notes, though I’ll do it too. We can compare that way. Major is a brute of a man, absolutely enormous. Played rugby with John in the Army. (More tiny shorts- FOCUS) and after honourable discharge took up boxing. Out on bail after apparently running mad and drunk after disappearance of kitten. When officer attempted to talk to him, hit officer.  
  
“She were new, you see, Mister Holmes. I was keeping her in the study till she was a bit settled, like. And when I got home, she weren’t there. I wouldn’t mind, except she was supposed to be a gift for my daughter. Last one in the shop in the whole of the city, as far as I can tell. Searched for hours for the silly thing. And, well, I’d had a few and I suppose I went a little bananas.” He gave me a rueful smile.  
“You should learn to close doors.” I told him. “I’m not a lost and found, I’m a detective.”  
“Yeah, I know that. You only like the interesting cases, Watson said.”  
“Well?”  
“There’s no way the cat could have got out. The door was tight shut and so were the windows. I made sure of it. Someone must’ve taken her. I couldn’t bear to disappoint our Candice, Mister Holmes, and Watson said you were the best of the best.” Did he now? John was just looking at me across the table. Probably should try not to look to keen.  
“Well, I’ll give it a look.”  
  
 **1045** At Major’s house. Large nouveau-riche place in West London. (Good lord, am turning into mother.) Bottle blonde woman in pink greeted us. Ostentatious gold jewellery, no wedding band. Make-up heavily inspired by WAG Barbie, sunbed tan. Introduced as partner Rosie.  
“I didn’t even want the horrid thing. All it did was cry. When you went near it, when you didn’t go near it. You should’ve heard it squeak when he put that silly collar on it.” She complained as she led us all down the expensively tasteless hallway (I don’t understand why you would put a big empty bowl on a table in the middle of a hallway. It makes no sense).  
“Silly collar?” John asked, apparently out of politeness.  
“Yeah, one of those daft rhinestone things- all these red and white ones, you know? I told him there was no point, the stupid thing didn’t appreciate it at all. I told him that he should just get it a cloth one and buy me this lovely bracelet I saw at Harrod’s, absolutely gorgeous...” Poor John. He was nodding along like one of those nodding dogs. It was kind of adorable actually- FOCUS.  
  
We were in the study, there were all the Major’s trophies and medals, and a desk with a phone, a computer and in the corner an entertainment system in front of one of those strange machines that look like an elaborate torture device or sex toy, and a couch. The television was gone, but the DVD player and game thing were still there.  
“It’s in the shop,” the Major explained. “Something broke. I don’t know, but it was under warranty, so I just called the shop.”  
He had a picture of the rugby team that him and John were in together in the Army. Gosh. My hypothesis about the shirt was right. Um. Very much so. And the... tiny shorts. Um. Indeed.  
  
“Who...” Stop staring, you look mental. “Who was home when the kitten went missing?” Maybe I could sneakily take a photo.  
“That would be Rosie. I had to go to training. But I locked up tight before I left. Double checked and everything.”  
“And she didn’t get out when the TV repairmen came, because I let ‘em in and she were lying on the couch. Then I made ‘em tea and told them about the stupid thing so they knew not to let it out.” Rosie was leaning against the door frame. “Then they took the telly with them, and it wasn’t here any more.”  
“Did you call the technicians?”  
“Yes. They swear up and down the cat didn’t get out when they opened the door. I know them from the Army, good guys.”  
Rosie rounded on the Major. “Told you you should’ve just gone down to Battersea. Anyway, it’s not like she’d even care, she’s twelve! Not to mention all those-”  
“Could you shut up? I’m trying to think.” I cut her off. Her voice was rising in pitch at every word. She looked affronted.  
“Oh, yes, and how is staring at that picture going to help?” Oh.  
“Must examine everything!” Had I gone red? “Anything could be a clue.” Oh god I had gone red. Why was John grinning?  
  
 **1100** Examination of room shows cat was present. Safe hidden behind dull painting, probably a couple of heirlooms and papers. Window locked, only one door into room. Hmm.  
  
 **1135** There’s more to this than just a runaway cat. A man like the Major wouldn’t care about the cost of buying a new kitten, and the child would never know about the original kitten. I’m missing something. Something big.  
  
 **1145** Asked John about the Major.  
“Good bloke. Dependable. But you know, bit of a wide boy. You could trust him with your life, though. But he was always in on some scheme or other. One time, him and these other blokes knocked off a whole crate of beans, and-”  
  
“That’s not important.” I interrupted. He looked hurt. “Why would he be so bothered about this cat?”  
“Because it was the last one in the shop?”  
“But not in the country. Any cat would presumably do.”  
“Apparently not. Maybe it was just the perfect cat.”  
“The perfect cat.”  
“You know, the best purr, the perfect markings. All that.” I love it when he tells me things we both know are ridiculous, his eyes are all- FOCUS.  
  
“Tell me about his partner.”  
“You don’t know anything about her?”  
“Apart from the fact that she’s his second wife, probably at least partially the result of a mid-life crisis, doesn’t like his daughter, probably because she feels threatened by her for any number of dull, banal reasons. She’s probably not only with him for his money, but it certainly helps.” (At least seven years younger than him, large, ostentatious engagement ring as well as new wedding band, wedding photo, doesn’t approve of time/money he spends on child, expensive clothes, professionally done hair, but hair looks brittle- abused by cheap dyes before then.) John was staring at me again. Like I was extraordinary.  
  
“To be honest, that’s all I know. She likes to spend though.” John passed me one of Mrs Hudson’s scandal rags (she leaves them up here sometimes, according to John). “I saw her on the Connie Prince show.”  
“Who?”  
“Never mind. She quite happily spends a thousand pounds on one item of clothing.” Huh. Don’t see what’s so wrong with that.  
  
 **1210** The television company still say that there was no way their men let the kitten out, and even if there was, there’s no way that they are responsible for the pet.  
  
 **1800** Bit on the news about jewel robbery. Apparently burglars broke in and cleaned place out. Idiots managed to drop most of it getting away, but apparently some items still missing. Quite valuable, apparently. They caught one of them, apparently. John looked up, startled.  
  
“Wait, who was that?”  
“Some idiot got caught.” If it’d been me they wouldn’t have even known what was stolen.  
“Oh my god. I was- I was in the Army with him.”  
“What?” Really, was there anyone that John doesn’t know from the Army?  
“That man- Jones.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah... Not that bright though. Thought he knew better than that though.”  
“Apparently not.”  
“Look, he’s a good bloke, alright? Surely even you’ve made some mistakes in your time.” John picked up his book again.  
“Did he know the Major?” I think I’m about to be brilliant.  
“Yes, they used to run around together- Sherlock? Where are you going?”  
  
 **1300** I love when it all falls into place like that. The Major had debts, thought that an easy robbery would get him out of it. Hid the bracelet on the kitten. The television technicians were also in on it, when they spotted the bracelet thought they could make off with it, but when the kitten started crying they just put it in the back of the television and made off. Kitten and bracelet have both returned unharmed. Major told all to Lestrade, who apparently gets called whenever my name goes out over police radio (useful fact).  
  
 **0130** Home again. John looked very tired. He hadn’t said anything when I had revealed all to the Major, either.  
  
“Well, that was certainly a good night.” I said, encouragingly.  
“Yeah. Think I’ll go to bed.”  
“I got it exactly.” I wasn’t boasting as such. And I certainly wasn’t trying to impress him.  
“Yeah, nice one.”  
“And in one day too.”  
“Yeah, and now a bunch of men I know and trusted are in prison.” John pointed out. “And you’re just gloating like you beat your own time in Sudoku.”  
“I don’t play Sudoku.”  
“Goodnight Sherlock.”  
  
 **0140** I still solved John Watson’s case though.  
  
 **0220** Mahjong app tells me ‘If you live a long life, it will be a testament to your friend’s self-control.’ Huh.  
  
  
 **16th February**. _Nicotine patches 4 Cigarettes 7 Cases 1_  
  
 **0800** Triple homicide in Putney. Brilliant start to the day, if you ask me. Can swing by the morgue and grab my tape-recorder on the way as well. Useful.  
  
 **19th February**. _Nicotine patches 4 Cigarettes 5 (but mainly menthol)_  
  
 **0930** Finally got in about four am. John’s still in bed. He did a good thing last night.  
  
 **0945** Think I’ll go down the shop.  
  
 **1020** What am I here for again?  
  
 **1022** Text from John: ‘Milk, butter, bugger off.’ Rude.  
  
 **1040** John’s still in bed. Hmm. Could go and do some things at the morgue.  
  
 **1130** “Do you know John used to play rugby?”  
“With those little shorts and the...?” Molly bit into a custard cream thoughtfully. “Oh my.”  
“Exactly.”  
“He’d suit them.”  
“He does. Or did.”  
“You’ve seen a picture?” Molly was looking at some point behind my ear.  
“Yes.”  
“Well well.”  
“Precisely.”  
The new intern came in.  
“What did I miss?” she asked. Sensible girl, that one. Got me a pint of lye without asking questions.  
“John Watson’s rugby shorts.” Molly told her.  
“Gosh.” She sat down next to us and took a custard cream. “You know, considering they’re so small, it’s quite a big thing to miss out on.”  
Think I might be a bit hysterical.  
  
 **1315** Lunch with Mike. Apparently Simon is obsessed with Pollock nowadays. Mrs Mike says I’m not allowed to take him to the art gallery next time. Apparently am not allowed to teach child anything, just park him in front of television, which will rot his brain and leave him a drooling zombie only capable of flicking channels.  
  
 **1317** I always thought white was an unwise colour for a wall anyway.  
  
 **1435** Go away Lestrade, I have more interesting things on than paperwork.  
  
 **1500** Intern brought me tea. Such a nice girl.  
  
 **1505** John came to find me. Apparently Lestrade is calling him now. Hate him.  
  
 **1510** Suddenly intern brings more tea. Winked at me. May have to kill her.  
  
 **1512** Molly came over.  
“Hello Doctor Watson. Did you see the rugby over the weekend?” Intern choked on tea.  
Think I might be a bit hysterical.  
  
 **1520** Apparently we are all mad.  
  
 **1900** I now have twenty-three of Lestrade’s IDs. Going to need a bigger drawer.  
  
 **1905** Lestrade asked John “Did you catch the rugby last night?”  
  
 **1908** “Did you say something, Sherlock?”  
“No.” I don’t think the noise I just made counts as speech.  
“Why are you all red?” Lestrade was grinning. Why was he grinning? I hate when he grins like that.  
“Sitting by the radiator.”  
  
 **1910** Ah. No radiator in here.  
  
  
 **February 20th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 5 (better) Annoying nosy older brothers 1_  
  
 **0835** Woke up from a dream where Mycroft was trying to make me take on a case in a manila file. He was chasing me with it. Finally took it because was worried he was going to sit on me, and it turned out to be about testing whether toast always falls butter side down or not. Ended up with all this toast, and it kept falling on the ceiling instead of the floor, which was not part of the experiment.  
  
 **0840** Wish Tubbs would stay out of my dreams though. Had one about rugby shorts the other night that he would have quite ruined.  
  
 **0841** Oh god. Cannot get thought of Mycroft in rugby shorts out of head oh god oh god.  
  
 **0845** But why the ceiling? Would toast even stick to the ceiling?  
  
 **0930** “Sherlock, what’s that on the ceiling?”  
“...Marmite.” Thought I’d got it all.  
“Why?”  
“To see if it would stick.” Why else?  
“Oh. Did it?”  
“Yes. Mostly.” And he just looked at me.  
  
 **1040** All I wanted to do was go to the morgue. But no.  
  
 **1045** Mycroft is waving a manila folder at me.  
“This better not be about toast.”  
“What?”  
I’m still not taking the case.  
  
 **1110** “What are you writing?” I hate when he shows an interest.  
“Nothing. Notes.”  
“Is it nothing, or is it notes? Stop glaring like that as well.”  
“Notes about how you need to stop sneaking chocolate croissants.”  
“Really, being childish will get you no where.”  
“I’m not being childish.”  
“Yes you are.”  
“Am not.”  
“Are too.” Hate him.  
  
 **1130** Took the case. He’s promised me a favour though. Might come in useful.  
  
  
 **February 24th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 5 Time spent thinking about relative merits of rugby shorts 4 (better)_  
  
 **0930** Text from Mycroft. ‘Childish. Your little prank scrambled three computers before was worked out.’  
Text back: ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about. Always get you a tie for your birthday.’  
‘Yes, but traditionally the tie does not contain what appears to be several concealed magnets. You’re lucky it didn’t make it into my office.’  
Damn. Almost.  
  
  
 **February 25th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 5 (Good) Homemade cookies 10 (probably excessive)_  
  
 **1020** Mrs Hudson came past with some baking.  
“You need to have a tidy up in here.”  
“Don’t tell me that. It’s all his paperwork from the last case.” John snapped from the kitchen. Oh. Was that why he’s been so quiet? It’s not that bad.  
“It’s not that bad.”  
“What are you currently balancing your tea on, Sherlock?” He folded his arms. I hate when he does that. It means he’s Made Up His Mind. I looked at the pile of paper. It fell over.  
“That’s because Mrs Hudson went past it.”  
“No she didn’t.”  
“Here, watch that rug young man!” Mrs Hudson rushed forward. It wasn’t even that good a rug.  
Why does everyone gang up on me?  
  
  
 **February 26th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 6 Cases 0 0 0 0 0 0_  
  
 **1700** Think I’ll play violin.  
  
 **2200** A case! Thank god. About to die. Locked room murders, always fun.  
  
  
 **February 28th**. _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 5 Cases 1 (Glorious)_  
  
 **0430** Going back to Yard. John told me I was extraordinary.  
0600 Waiting for lab results has to be the most boring things in the world.  
  
 **0605** Sally brought tea. Haven’t touched it. God knows what she’s done to it. Don’t understand why she’s still cross. It was five years ago, for goodness’ sake.  
  
 **0610** John’s fallen asleep sitting in the office chair. His head’s slumped, and he’s snoring a little, which is possibly one of the best noises I’ve heard all day (and that includes Anderson missing a step and falling down an entire flight of stairs). His face is all peaceful but not in the same way it is when he has a cup of tea first thing, and he’s got a little smile. It’s all curly. I like it when it’s curly. Which is all the time.  
  
 **0630** Lestrade snuck up on me. “Does John know you watch him sleep?” He looked over my shoulder. “And apparently take notes. You know Anderson could have really hurt himself?”  
“Don’t care. Shut up. Go away. It’s nothing.”  
“You sound like my Ellie. She’s about thirteen.”  
“Shut up.” Hate him.  
  
“You know it is a bit odd to watch your flatmate sleep.”  
“What about taking notes?”  
“Creepy. Definitely creepy.” Hate him. Hate him.  
“I’m observing.”  
“You’re observing his smile?” Lestrade raised an eyebrow.  
“Shut up.”  
“And... His facial expression?”  
“Shut up!”  
“Well I suppose you can tell a lot from a facial expression...”  
  
John woke up with a snort.  
“What are you two arguing about?” Oh god.  
“Whether the cousin shows obsessive behaviour towards the victim.” Lestrade sat down.  
“I don’t think so. He sent her flowers when she was ill. Not as though he was watching her sleep or anything.” OH GOD HE KNOWS.  
“Sherlock?” Lestrade raised his eyebrows. “Are you alright?”  
“Yes.” I hate him I hate him I hate him.  
“Only you’ve gone all red.”  
Think I may be a bit hysterical.  
  
 **0830** Texted Lestrade: ‘I don’t think taking notes in a personal journal is creepy. Anyway, he always falls asleep in really odd places. It’s not like I’m breaking into his room at night. SH’  
‘I’m not interested in your mad tendencies. Unless you try to make a John-doll out of his skin. L.’ Huh.  
  
 **0832** ‘Don’t make a John-doll out of his skin. L.’ Not even going to dignify that with an answer.  
  
 **0833** I think breaking into his room would definitely be creepy. Which is why I would never do it. Because I’m not creepy.  
  
 **0834** Anyway, the door squeaks and the lock mechanism is really loud, and John wakes up at sharp noises.  
  
 **0836** Making a doll out of human skin would be impractical as well.  
  
 **0837** I’m not that obsessive.  
  
 **0838** I wonder if John still has his old rugby kit.  
  
 **0839** And we’re out of custard creams.  
  
 **1030** “Do you think watching someone sleep is obsessive?”  
“Sherlock, I’m working.” Molly raised the clipboard threateningly.  
“This is important.”  
“Fine, it’s about time for a cuppa.”  
  
 **1100** Molly says that people don’t treat their flatmates like lab experiments. Also that John would probably be quite annoyed to realise that every time he napped I was standing over him like a cut-price Batman. But I live with him! Anyway, I don’t stand over him. That would be creepy.  
  
“Watching him with binoculars across the room is still not normal behaviour.”  
“I don’t use binoculars.”  
“Stop being dense, Sherlock!” Molly snapped.  
“I’m not being dense, you’re exaggerating. If I sit in the kitchen and John’s in the living room I don’t need binoculars to watch him do anything!”  
“Don’t be a child. You’re being completely ridiculous.”  
“Don’t be stupid. It’s unbecoming.” She glared at me and went all tight-lipped. Fine.  
  
I picked up a few custard cream crumbs.  
“Why don’t you just tell him?”  
“You mean just go up to him and say ‘Hi, I know we’ve only been living together for a few weeks but I think you might be the person I’ve been waiting for, and I have been watching you sleep, but don’t worry, not with binoculars, and also I won’t make a John-doll from your skin?”  
“Well... I thought maybe dinner?”  
  
I think I may be a bit creepy.  
  
 **2100** John’s sleeping by the fire. He was reading and the book is lying on his chest- I’m going for a walk.  
  
 **2130** See? Not obsessed. Not thinking about John Watson’s shorts, or his smile, or that he thinks that I’m extraordinary (and he does). Or the way he likes his tea. Or the way he curls into the couch when he’s napping. Or that he likes Hobnobs better than custard creams. Or that he’s quite compact, but wears jumpers so people can’t guess. Or that I still can’t work out what colour his eyes are.  
  
 **2132** Oh dear.


	4. March Part One

  
**March 1st.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 7 (not so good, I suppose) Annoying brothers 1 (but beating all the others in terms of being a git)_  
  
 **1020** In Mycroft’s car.  
  
 **1022** “Stop sulking. Honestly, did you actually bother to grow up after the age of thirteen?” What’s got his knickers in a twist?  
“It’s Mummy’s birthday this month.” Oh. Of course.  
“I don’t know what you’re so grumpy about. The Family love you.”  
“Mummy wants to know if you’re bringing the good doctor.” Oh god.  
“I can’t possibly bring John to a Family dinner. He’ll run a mile.”  
“Mummy was quite adamant.”  
“No.”   
“Don’t make me order you.”  
“Don’t you dare.” I bet the child-locks are on. Tubbs is such an old woman. Completely convinced that I’ll throw myself out rather than talk to him. Ridiculous idea.  
  
 **1024** Anyway, last time I almost got hit by a bus and sprained my shoulder.   
  
**1025** At the the morgue. He just won’t quit. “So, are you going to bring Doctor Watson?”  
“What? No!”  
“Why not? Mummy’s aching to meet him, there hasn’t been anyone since-”  
“He’s not coming.”  
“Has he told you this?”  
“No.”  
“Well then, you should ask him.”  
“No.”  
“Sherlock...”  
“It’s not happening, Mycroft!” I snapped. And why shouldn’t I? Really, he can be so... Mycroft.   
  
**1027** Didn’t feel like going to the morgue after Tubbs. He always manages to spoil my day.  
  
 **1140** “John, do you want to go to my Mother’s birthday dinner?” Oh god, Fatty was right. How is he going to understand ‘dywagomuhmuthesbirthdydinnr?’  
“What? Why?” Oh. Apparently John is fluent in thirteen-year-old boy.  
“Oh, never mind. Just an idea. Don’t worry about it. Must dash. Got to go to the morgue.”  
Oh god. What am I doing?  
  
 **1215** Sitting under a tree in Regent’s Park. Surprisingly relaxing, actually. Grass is a bit wet though.  
  
 **1216** Look, I don’t want to think about it.   
  
**1217** Fatty’s texting me. Go away, Fatty.   
  
**1220** I said I’d have lunch with Mike. Damn.  
  
 **1300** Late for lunch with Mike.   
“Who spat in your cereal?”   
“I don’t know what you mean.”  
“You know, you could just talk to him. Watson’s pretty good like that.”  
“Shut up.”  
  
 **1430** Went to see Molly re: brother ruining life.  
“He’s your brother, of course he wants to ruin your life.”  
“Really?”  
“No. Don’t be daft. He wants to help, which often looks like much the same thing.” Hmm.  
  
 **1615** Molly can be so unreasonable. She just kicked me out of the lab for telling her that the man she was going to see was likely to be quite into Japanese porn (excessive use of Japanese-style emoticons and sentence structure). She threw a wireless mouse at me.  
  
 **1710** “Causing mischief?”  
“Why do you say that?”  
“You’ve got that guilty-cat look about you. I’m amazed Molly puts up with you sometimes.” John grinned at me over his paper.  
“I didn’t do anything. Molly threw a mouse at me though.”  
“You shouldn’t leave them on the rug then.”  
Huh.  
  
 **1750** Still no mention of the Family Dinner. Maybe he’s decided not to go, but doesn’t know how to tell me. Or he thinks that inviting your flatmate to a family dinner is kind of mental, and is right now looking at the wanted ads for a new place, any new place.  
  
 **1752** Stole the wanted ads from the local papers. No tell-tale biro rings or pencil markings. Maybe he’s using Craigslist. No wait, I saw him on eBay the other day, it was actually painful. I had to take it off him.   
  
**1800** Mmm. I think he’s making risotto for dinner. He makes excellent risotto.  
  
 **1815** He was pouring red wine into the risotto and laughing.   
“You really are like a cat. You always appear before mealtimes.”  
“Am not.”   
“Stop filching the peppers!”  
“Am not!”  
“Are you eating raw onion? That’s actually mad.”  
“No it’s not. Try it.”  
“No! That’s- No! Don’t follow me with it, you lunatic. Bugger off!”  
Think I might be a bit hysterical.  
  
 **1900** Risotto cunning ploy. Should have seen that coming.  
“So, Mother’s birthday dinner.” John had been drinking the wine as well as cooking it. His cheeks were flushed. I wanted to pinch the- FOCUS.   
“What about it?”  
“Where is it? Who’s going?”  
“It’s at the country pile, since Mummy refuses to live in the city any more, and the whole Family will be there. It’ll be ghastly.”  
“The whole Family?”  
“Yes. Cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews- not mine, obviously.” Couldn’t imagine Mycroft with children. They’d be emotionally stunted and have weird complexes about food.  
“Hmm. Trapped in a room full of Holmeses for an evening. I don’t know. When is it?”  
“Fourteenth of March.” He stared at his plate. I stared at John. The skull stared at the sofa. Why were we all staring? Well, perhaps not Mrs Hudson, unless she’s just taken one of her soothers. And the skull couldn’t help it. What was so interesting about the plate, anyway? Maybe there was a pattern. Or a hidden picture?  
“Sherlock, what are you doing?”  
“Trying to see what’s on your plate.”  
And he just looked at me.  
“Sherlock. Why are you asking me to this?”  
“Um.” Because you’re the only person to have lived with me for a month and not call me weird once. Because sometimes I do say mad things and you just look at me, but not like other people. Because I think-   
“Sherlock?”  
“Because it’ll be completely ghastly, and I don’t see why I should suffer alone.”  
“Ah.” He looked down at his plate again. “Oh wait, the fourteenth? I’ll just be travelling back from Scotland all day, and in no condition to deal with someone else’s irrationally mad family.”  
“Oh?”  
“Harry’s birthday.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeah.”  
Huh.  
  
  
 **March 2nd.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 6 Cases 1_  
  
 **1340** Told Molly about bizarre Family Dinner conversation.  
“You have a family? I thought you were just grown. Like a lanky mushroom or something.” Molly gave me a custard cream. “So you’re giving up smoking for Mummy then?” She looked at me. I hid my cigarette behind my back.  
“Yes. How do you know that?”  
“Because only a mother could put the fear of god in your eyes like that.”  
Huh.  
  
 **1500** A case!  
  
  
 **March 5th.** _Nicotine patches 7 Cigarettes 4 Tadpoles 10_  
  
 **1430** Mike called.   
“Look mate, there’s been a complete cock-up with the day-care and the missus’s shifts and I’ve got a lab to oversee the young and the hopeless and we really need someone to go and pick Simon up and take care of him till I get out at six?”  
  
 **1500** At park with Simon. Under strictest instructions not to get too muddy from Mike. Eating ice-cream with gloves on and watching people whilst Simon tells me about his day. Who calls a child MacKenzie? Especially a girl.  
  
 **1520** Apparently putting a small child on your shoulders to go to the playground (he has very short legs) is a good way to get melted ice-lolly down your neck.  
  
 **1537** A lady with a pram offered to help me clean the sticky stuff off the back of my neck. The wet wipes were useful, although I don’t know why she offered to wipe it off for me. She kept giggling too, and her friend was yelling “I’ll tell your Charlie!” Most surreal.  
  
 **1540** Found tadpoles in the duck-pond. Emergency run to house to find what Simon appears to think are ‘wellygogs’ and jars.  
  
 **1550** Mike has much bigger feet than I thought he would.   
  
**1600** NB: Pockets take three jam-jars admirably, although does break the line of the coat.  
  
 **1605** Hmm. Think I’ll leave my coat on a bench. God knows what’s in that pond, and dry-cleaning is such a bore.  
  
 **1608** And we’ll leave Simon’s coat there too. Mrs Mike’s voice is very shrill over the phone.  
  
 **1609** “What are you writing?” Simon’s dragging the jam-jars out of my coat.  
“Notes.”  
“About the tadpoles?”   
“Yes.”  
“Can I keep notes about the tadpoles?”  
“Yes, we can make it into an experiment.”  
  
 **1613** Decided that the easiest thing to do would be to lie down and trail the jam-jars through the water.  
  
 **1625** I swear this child attracts mess. He has apparently spent the last ten or so minutes lying in duck-mess.  
  
 **1635** What kind of house doesn’t have spare notebooks? Good thing I went to WHSmith’s today.  
  
 **1650** Frogs are much less interesting after they’ve grown. Simon agrees.  
  
 **1820** Mike was very impressed with the tadpole box in the garden, and all the things that Simon had looked up and written (Well, drawn. He is only four) in his new journal about how to take care of them. Once they’re grown he’ll take them back to the pond. Mike made me clean up the muddy footprints though. I still think cream is a terrible colour for a carpet. He also told me he’d stick Simon’s shirt in the wash without telling Mrs Mike. He’s a good man.  
  
 **1900** “Sherlock, what is the fish-bowl of tadpoles for?”  
“Simon and I will exchange notes on their development.”  
“Simon Stamford? Mike’s kid?” John tapped on the side of the bowl gently.  
“Yes.”  
“Huh.” Why was he grinning like that? “I suppose I should just be glad they won’t show up suspended in jelly or something.”   
“Don’t tempt me.”  
  
 **1902** I wonder if tadpoles could swim in jelly though? It’s basically thick water. You could get the green kind, so they’d think it was a strange sort of pond-weed. Then they’d never need feeding, they could just chew their way through more jelly.  
  
 **1904** And of course, would be spill-proof, which would be very useful.  
  
 **1905** “Sherlock, you’re not to try and encase the tadpoles in jelly.” John’s making pasta in the other room. Smells pretty good actually.  
“I’m not.”  
“You are. You couldn’t do it, you’d boil them alive.”  
“Oh. True. What if I put them in after?”  
“They’d suffocate before you got them into the jelly proper.”  
“Oh.”  
“Would you stop picking at the carrots!”  
  
  
 **March 6th.** _Nicotine patches 7 Cigarettes 4 (I have never wanted a cigarette more in my life) Tadpoles 10 (still black wriggly things)_   
  
**1340** John’s got his Hoovering face on again. Going to the morgue.  
  
 **1345** Correction, taking out bins and then going to the morgue.  
  
 **1355** Correction, taking out bins, putting them back where I found them, cleaning up what I put in the sink the other day (it boiled over) and then going to the morgue.  
  
 **1415** Finally escaped. John gets irrationally grumpy when he cleans, last time I just left him to it he threw out several experiments, claiming he thought they were rubbish.  
  
 **1417** I don’t see how one could mistake a tray of plaster with boot-prints in it as rubbish.   
  
**1417** Especially since the boot was still attached.   
  
  
**March 7th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 4 Tadpoles 10 (still black wriggly things) Cases 0 0 0 0 0 0_  
  
 **1039** Bored.  
  
 **1042** Made tadpoles a whirlpool with the aid of a swizzle stick.  
“Stop tormenting the poor creatures, you’ll kill them.”  
“I won’t. It must be very dull being a tadpole.”  
“They like dull. They were born in a duck-pond for goodness’ sake.” John picked the tadpoles up and put them on the dining-room table. Would go after him to prove him wrong but dying of boredom.  
  
 **1045** Think I’ll play some violin.  
  
 **1100** “Sherlock, either play in tune or stop.”  
“I told you I played the violin.”  
“What you are doing could not be classified as playing. At all. And stop waving that bow around, you’ll knock something over.” He put a cup of tea beside me. “Maybe you could do your paperwork from the last few cases? Get your expenses back?” Oh lord, I cannot imagine anything less interesting.  
  
 **1103** John took my bow away.   
  
**1130** Have made a paper hat for the skull out of an invoice. I think it suits him. I wonder if he ever gets a cold head. Or if he gets bored. I mean, it’s not as though he can get about like he used to. And I have been neglecting him recently. He’s got a bit dusty. I hope he hasn’t got a spider in his skull again. The last one laid eggs. Most disturbing to see them escape through his eye-sockets. And he’s stuck in the sun for the most of the day, just sort of cooking. Poor thing, I have neglected him. Do skulls feel neglected? I mean, they’re laid pretty bare. Can’t even hide behind their eyes like most people do. Wonder if I should polish him up. Maybe get him a friend. A woman’s skull. But what if he’s gay? They can just be friends. Custard creams and so on. Would be better if he was gay, I’m not prepared for the responsibility of the rattle of tiny skulls.  
  
 **1145** Do skulls start out as skulls? Or do they start out as wristbones and ankle bones and toe bones and things. And then sort of build themselves up. Could ask John. He would know. Probably even know whether ankle bones turn into femurs and arm bones into humeruses. Which would mean once my skull was a neckbone. Or a backbone. In theory.  
  
 **1150** Found the Pledge. And the dust-cloth. Soon get the old chap spruced up. He’s a fine figure of a skull, really.  
  
 **1155** I wonder if they go to a special bone school where they learn to become skulls and things, and then when they graduate they find out if they will get to be a skull or are going to be stuck being a backbone or a toe.   
  
**1200** “Sherlock, why is the skull wearing sun-glasses and a paper hat?”  
“So we can’t see into his head.”  
“And he’s on the window-sill because?”  
“I thought he might be bored. And I don’t want to take care of a lot of neck bones.”  
He looked at the skull, and looked at me.  
“Have you been into Mrs Hudson’s soothers?” He leaned forward and sniffed around my neckline. Mmm... “Are you high?”   
“Maybe.” How did he smell it? I went up to the roof! He’s like some sort of bloodhound. Could put a leash on him and oh dear. He looks annoyed.  
  
 **1215** John’s in his room. He was so cross. I don’t understand what his problem was. It’s not particularly illegal. He said a lot of things about recovering addicts. Obviously mostly because of sister, presumably soaking or drying out, possibly both. Like a crusty beach towel- I need to get out.  
  
 **2013** Took John ages to come down. Finally knocked and tell him had made him a cup of tea.  
“What’s this?”   
“My Emergency Box.” I pushed it towards him. “Usually I keep it under my bed. It’s for you know, emergencies.”  
He opened it, and he didn’t say anything for ages. Just touched the velvet once.   
“What’s the date on- on the...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.  
“That’s when I sealed the bag.”   
“Oh.” And he went quiet again. The fridge was buzzing. Had it always been so loud?   
“You- you can do what you like with it.” I finally said.   
“This date is for over a year ago.”  
“Yes. Mrs Lestrade’s funeral, before you ask.” When he didn’t say anything I added. “She was very sick, for a very long time.”  
He blew out a breath. “I understand. Well, I don’t. But I comprehend.”  
He shut the lid of the Emergency Box. Does that mean it’s over? He pushed it towards me, and got up again. I could hear him starting the dinner in the other room.  
I got the tin out of my room and put it in the spare compartment of the Emergency Box.   
  
  
**March 8th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 5 Tadpoles 10 (still black wriggly things)_  
  
 **1230** Lestrade phoned with a case. Solved it over the phone. John was looking at me as I hung up. He does that. I don’t mind though.  
“How do you do that?”  
“What?”  
“Make it look so simple, even when it’s not.” And he smiled.   
“Things are usually quite simple when you lay them out.”  
“Extraordinary.”  
John Watson thinks I’m extraordinary. Maybe things aren’t so bad.  
  
 **March 9th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 5 Tadpoles 10 (still black wriggly things)_  
  
 **1219** Client came by with a new case. Could be interesting.  
  
  
 **March 11th.** _Nicotine patches 7 Cigarettes 5 Tadpoles 10 (I’m sure something should have happened by now. They just keep getting bigger and bigger but nothing else)_  
  
 **1020** Think I might go catch up with Molly.  
  
 **1230** “I don’t understand why you don’t just ask him out.”  
“Because.”   
“That’s not an answer.” Molly folded her arms. I hate when she does that.  
“Because he thinks I’m extraordinary. And he smiles at me.”  
“So what you’re saying is you can’t ask him out because he likes you.” Molly gave me a look. “You do realise that’s actually mad.”  
“No, that’s not it at all. I don’t want to ask him out, as you say.” I hate that phrase, it’s so juvenile. “Because you know. I. Don’t.”   
She looked at me and started laughing. Why do people keep doing that?  
  
 **1240** Anyway. I couldn’t ask him out because John Watson (who thinks I’m extraordinary) needs someone who will be properly worth his time. Someone who isn’t an emotional wasteland and doesn’t have the social grace of a particularly backwards stork. Someone without an Emergency Box for him to look at with such awful disappointment.   
  
**1432** Mycroft wants me to take a case. No.  
  
  
 **March 12th.** _Nicotine patches 7 Cigarettes 3 (oh god) Time spent in Harrods looking for a birthday present 10000 years (feels like)_  
  
 **0900** Saw John off to Scotland. He’s going to see Harry for her birthday. I am going to Harrod’s to find a present for Mummy.  
  
 **0930** When I die and go to hell this is where I’ll wake up. Got some nice dressing-gowns though, and my old one is getting a bit ratty.   
  
**0945** Who would need this many scarves anyway? What did I get her for Christmas last year?  
  
 **0947** Texted Mycroft: Apparently I got her a scarf.  
‘What did I get her for her birthday?’  
‘A scarf. A different one.’  
‘What about Christmas before that?’  
‘You called me on Christmas Eve and begged me to put your name on my gift.’  
Oh.  
‘No I won’t. Find something yourself.’  
Huh.   
  
**1054** Texted Molly: ‘What do you get your mother for her birthday?’  
‘Usually I get her the latest Stephen King novel.’  
‘No good.’  
‘A scarf?’  
Surrounded by unhelpful people.  
  
 **1057** Still in haberdashery hell. Text from John. ‘Stuck in Watford. Any joy?’  
‘What do you get your mother for her birthday?’  
‘Usually I just go visit her grave.’  
Oh dear lord. This is the living thing all over again. At least I didn’t tell him to use his imagination.  
‘Maybe a scarf?’  
‘Use your imagination.’  
For Christ’s sake.  
  
 **1100** Had to leave haberdashery hell. It will never work. Am clearly terrible son.  
  
 **1110** Where am I? Aisles stretch for miles in both directions. Texted John.  
‘Swallowed by Harrod’s. No chance of escape. Don’t sell my skull.’  
‘The skull will be the first thing to go.’  
‘But he would be your momento mori of me.’  
‘No, the momento mori will be the dishes in the sink.’  
Huh.  
  
 **1120** Freedom! I never thought I’d see the sun again.  
  
 **1121** Why is it so hot?  
  
 **1122** Ducked into little shop to get out of ridiculous sun.  
  
 **1126** Hah. Knew I could do it.   
  
**1128** Texted John.  
‘Success!’  
‘See? Knew you could do it.’  
‘Was there ever any doubt?’  
‘Asking the salesperson is cheating though.’  
Damn.  
  
 **1134** On my way home. Quite looking forward to a quiet night in.  
  
 **1345** Bored.   
  
**2235** Text from Molly: ‘Stop bugging me or I will do something we both regret.’ She will as well. One time she hit me with what she thought was an empty kidney dish. Ruined a perfectly good shirt.  
‘I thought you liked it when I texted.’  
‘Not for six hours straight. I was on a date.’   
‘With the Japanese pervert?’  
‘Oh sod off.’ She’s so rude.  
  
  
 **March 13th.** _Nicotine patches 8 Cigarettes 1 (last ditch attempt) Tadpoles 10 (still small, black and wriggly)_  
  
 **1340** Texted Lestrade. ‘Any new cases?’  
‘Nothing you’d be interested in.’  
‘Try me.’  
‘Wait, isn’t it the 13th today? Nice try. Tell your mother many happy returns.’  
  
 **1345** Went to the morgue. Molly gave me a custard cream and told me she wouldn’t hide me in the cupboard this year.  
“You made me look like a twit last year.”   
“I did not.”  
“You told me your brother was a mob boss.”  
“He might’ve been.”  
She narrowed her eyes and I stepped back. She’s a mean shot with a hole-punch, and very unreasonable.  
“What if I told you the IRA were after me- ow!”  
  
 **1400** Really, she’s so unreasonable. And violent.   
  
**1420** So much for loyalty. Mike just laughed and shut the door. I didn’t even get to explain about the Yakuza.  
  
 **1730** Can hear Mycroft at door. Damn. Only one place I can hide.  
  
 **1740** For such a little old lady, Mrs Hudson has a surprisingly tough grip. I think my ear might actually be at a different angle than it used to be.   
“You’re not even bleeding. Don’t be such a baby.” Hate Mycroft.  
“Shut up.”  
“You know, if you hadn’t burst in pretending that you were about to be killed by armed thugs she might have been more gentle.”  
“Shut up.” Hate him.  
  
 **1830** I don’t understand why Mycroft doesn’t get a proper guest bed. Hate this futon-y thing. Too short for anyone, except possibly Santa’s little helper.  
  
 **1832** Maybe Mycroft is Father Christmas. Could just see him with white beard and red coat.   
  
**1834** Mind you, not nearly cheerful enough. Maybe he could be Santa’s little accountant.   
  
**1835** Well, I say little.  
  
 **2100** Watching news with Mycroft. Seeing if I can flick a peanut into his wine-glass without him noticing.  
  
 **2110** Mycroft took the peanuts off me. How rude.   
“You don’t need any more peanuts, that waistcoat’s in danger of becoming a cummerbund as it is.”  
He’s pretending not to hear me. How childish. 


	5. March Part Two

**14th March.** _Nicotine patches 9 Cigarettes 0 (There may be death) Mycroft wouldn’t stop to look at the tadpoles_  
  
 **0800** I swear this bed takes three inches off my height every time I sleep in it. Will eventually be hole in the ground.  
  
 **0830** In the car. Bored. Mycroft’s brought paperwork with him. He really is Santa’s little accountant.  
  
 **0845** “You know Mummy’s going to be annoyed if you bring your homework with you. You know the rule, not even Pater-”  
“That’s why I’m going to leave it in the car. Unfortunately, time and international politics wait for no birthday party.”  
“Except your thirtieth.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
 **0915** Text from Cousin Freddie. ‘Uncle Sherrinford just showed up. House has gone from well-oiled machine to cuckoo clock. Springs, cogs everywhere. Mum‘s having hysterics. Glorious.’ And I thought it was going to be dull.  
  
 **0917** Told Mycroft about Uncle Sherrinford. He rolled his eyes and muttered,  
“Aunt Matilda was always the melodramatic type. Especially over table settings.”  
“You’re just annoyed because Sherrinford knows the future and won’t tell you how.”  
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
He does. If Mycroft is the British government, Sherrinford is the Illuminati. Never been sure about him myself. He has this habit of looking at you as though he knows something about you you don’t, and he can be dreadfully high and mighty when he thinks he’s got one over someone. Mummy says I remind her of him when he was younger. I just don’t want to have to grow an enormous beard. Mind you, if it meant I was allowed to disappear for up to a year with no word and then just stroll in without getting told off by everyone, might be worth it.   
  
**0925** Remember time in university when Mycroft grew a beard and it came in ginger. Not sure a ginger beard would suit me.   
  
**0928** I could colour it in with boot polish.  
  
 **0929** I wonder how Kiwis, a notably brown bird, make black boot polish?  
  
 **0930** Perhaps they breed black Kiwis like cattle. Whole ranches of Kiwis standing about eating... What do Kiwis eat? Grass? Would explain green insides, certainly.  
  
 **0931** “You do realise that you will also have to finish your ‘homework’, as you put it?”   
“It’s not homework.”  
“Nonsense, I’m sure boot-polish production is key to the deductive art.”  
Hate him.  
  
 **1030** Excellent. Sherrinford already installed in drawing room. Mother serenely sipping tea. Various cousins lurking about and grinning. Presence of Sherrinford always brings relatives from all over the country, as far as I can tell specifically to be offended by him.  
  
“Ah, excellent. My favourite nephew.” He gripped my hand. There has never been a point in my life where I have not been scared of Sherrinford’s handshakes. “Good lord boy, what on earth are they feeding you? I could snap you like a twig! Still running around London like Zorro? Good, good... Ah, Mycroft.” Mycroft’s turn for the bone-crunching handshake. “We should probably talk shop at some point, dear boy. Now don’t get upset Lettie-” Sherrinford was the only person who called Mummy Lettie. “We’ll wait till after the festivities.”  
  
Then Uncle Chadwick came in and started shouting about 1978 and Sherrinford bawled back about rocks and I’m not sure if it was an argument or just them saying hello. Mycroft looked pained, Mummy put her teacup down very carefully and Cousin Freddie grinned at me. Brilliant.  
  
 **1045** Cousin Jilly nursing one of her interchangeable babies in hallway.   
“What are you so pleased about?”  
“Oh. Uncle Sherrinford’s here.”  
“Oh. You would be.” And she stalked off. What?  
  
 **1115** The best part of a Sherrinford appearance is the small children he trails in his wake, in a sort of daze brought on by a big beard in the sky handing down five pound notes and pats on the head seemingly at random.   
  
**1120** I also like the way all the aunts and uncles and things instantly become offended or annoyed, without him having to do anything at all.  
  
 **1130** Small children, high on their near-Sherrinford experience and five pound notes, have scattered screaming. Feel like I might be about to be taken away and tied up in a far corner of the house by pygmy tribesmen, as if _Heart of Darkness_ had a terrible collision with _Pride and Prejudice_.  
  
 **1135** Could get rescued by Mr Darcy. Especially if he was played by Colin Firth.  
  
 **1138** I don’t think John would look good in Regency dress.   
  
**1150** Cousin Freddie came over.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Hiding from the pygmies.”  
“Ah. Yes. What are you writing?” She peered over my shoulder. “Who’s John?” Hate her.  
“No one. Shut up. It’s nothing.”   
“Oh. Well. Your mother wants us to round up the pygmies and let them free into the gardens.”  
“Why us?”  
"Everyone else is trying to pretend Uncle Sherrinford hasn't set the badger among the chickens again."   
"What?"   
"Oh. This was in 2005. You were in hospital." Oh.  
She sat next to me and handed me a cigarette. “Christ. Do you think we’ll be like them when we grow up?”  
“No.” Somehow the cigarette was lit. “I don’t want a ginger beard.”  
She just looked at me. Somewhere inside there was a scream and a crash.  
“The natives are restless.” She stood up. “You should bring John next time. He can’t be much worse than the last one.” Hate her.  
“And you’d look rubbish in Regency dress. Your legs are like pipe-cleaners.” And she winked at me. Why did she wink at me?   
Texted John.  
‘Legs like pipe-cleaners?’  
‘I always thought more like bendy straws.’  
Think I might be a bit hysterical.  
  
 **1210** Small children terrifying. Unclear why anyone would bother with them. Instantly engulfed Freddie and carried her away as she screamed “Tell Aunt Genie she’s a fruit-baaat...”  
“At least you’ll leave a beautiful corpse!” I called after her.   
  
**1215** Oh god they’ve found me.  
  
 **1300** Finally escaped as even a Sherrinford visit cannot upset Mummy enough to prevent manners- including scrubbing before lunch.  
  
 **1315** Sat down next to Chadwick again, although thank god he left me alone. Kept giving me funny looks. Is he Freddie’s father? Oh god. What if she told them about the Regency dress? This’ll be Sandra Wood all over again...  
  
 **1345** Sherrinford doing the rounds. Love how when he visits, he takes the time to upset everyone personally.   
“You boy!” He boomed at me. “What in blazes have you done to your face? You look like a feral transvestite!” What?  
Cousin Millicent lent me her mirror and a wet-wipe.   
"That looks like Feefee’s work to me. Sorry about her, she wants to be a make-up artist when she grows up.”   
“She has a talent for it.” I scrubbed at what appeared to be blue poster-paint.  
"You know, it's good of you to play with them."   
"It's not like a choice."  
It’s very hard to wash one’s face when the bratling child in front of you is intent on using soap as a combination food-stuff and weapon against another child, and another one is intent on licking the mirror, for reasons of their own.  
  
 **1412** On conservatory roof. Text from Freddie. ‘Where the hell are you?’ I’ll never tell.  
  
 **1415** “There are two places I look when you’re hiding,” Freddie flopped down beside me. “And you weren’t in the cupboard.”  
Below us, second cousin Mabel was yelling at her husband whilst pulling him away from Sherrinford.  
“You know, Mum was saying you really remind her of Sherrinford?”  
“Oh yes?” Why does everyone say that?  
“I told her not to be ridiculous. There’s no way you could grow a decent beard.” Huh. Bet I could if I wanted to. She grinned at me. “Well, give it time I suppose.”  
I watched Mabel slug her husband. Might not be quite so bad.  
  
 **1430** Finally found cousins Sharren and Darren (twins, only people in family who have worse name than Mycroft and I) .  
“Fancy a flutter, Sherly?”  
“Don’t call me that. What is there?” Darren got out a notebook and thumbed through it professionally. Already missed out on first round of hysterics but got good odds on Uncle Edgar being the first to challenge Sherrinford to a fight. Sharren looked all shifty and said:  
“Actually, there is something you could help on. We’ve got exceptionally good odds on Thackery catching up with you...”  
“No. Why would I willingly get into a fight with him?”  
Darren grinned. “We’ll cut you in.”  
“No.”  
“Oh go on Sherly. Cousin Jilly’s got a hundred quid down on Thackery knocking you out by the cheese course.”  
“No! And don’t call me that!”  
They looked at each other.   
“Twenty-five per cent if you throw it.” Sharren said, grudgingly.  
“No!”  
“You wound us both, so deeply.” Darren rolled his eyes dramatically. Sharren matched him perfectly. Disquieting.  
  
 **1540** Finally managed to find a quiet place for a cigarette. Relatives still arriving. As though it being Mummy’s birthday wasn’t bad enough, Sherrinford has been holding court all day. Caught myself wondering if John would get along with the in-laws. He gets on with everyone though. Oh lord. Someone’s calling me. Hopefully not Great-Aunt Iphigenia.  
  
 **1700** Great-Aunt Iphigenia. Mad old bat. Keeps calling me Sherrinford. I don’t even look like him.  
  
 **1710** Glory be. Sherrinford just outed Chadwick’s affair to everyone. Brilliant. Chadwick lunged for him, magnificent shade of purple. Aunt May’s nostrils went white and she threw a teacup. Freddie shrieked with laughter. Jilly’s baby started crying, and Great-Aunt Iphigenia (who had received a lap of milky tea) started flailing her stick around and demanding to know what had just happened. Mummy rolled her eyes, looked disturbingly like Mycroft in a frock. And Sherrinford caught my eye and winked.  
  
 **1814** Damn. Thackery has arrived. I swear he has found a way to swap muscles for brains. He gets bigger every year. Maybe I can just hide out here till dinner, then make a quick getaway after.  
  
 **2130** Text from John: ‘Home. Would it have killed you to buy milk?’  
  
Text back: ‘I'm not the one who left it out.’  
  
 **2150** Sherrinford good on his promise to talk to Mycroft, worse luck. Freddie keeps smirking at me. Hate her.  
  
 **2154** Sherrinford came out of the drawing room to Uncle Edgar threatening him. Excellent.   
  
**0030** John’s asleep in his chair. The one that fits him perfectly. The thing is. Oh lord. It’s not like it matters anyway. He’ll always be too good for me. I haven’t even found my chair. Look, I don’t want to think about it.  
  
 **0130** It’s cold in here. I woke John up. He was all sleepy like a baby hedgehog look shut up. When I shook him awake he smiled and it was all curly shut up.  
  
  
 **March 15th.** _Nicotine patches 7 Cigarettes 1 (menthol) Tadpoles 9 (!)_  
  
 **0930** What on earth happened to the tenth tadpole? Not even a note. Who would kidnap a tadpole?   
  
**1100** John got up.   
  
**1115** “Someone stole one of the tadpoles. I’ve looked all over the flat and it’s not anywhere.”  
“Did you feed them before you left?”  
“...No.”  
“Well, there you go.”   
“...You mean they ate one of them?”   
“Survival of the fittest.” He leaned against the counter, waiting for the kettle. He always does that. “Talking of which- strong words over dinner?” He gestured at his face. What on earth- Oh.   
“My cousin Thackery.” At least we didn’t break a window this time.  
“Christ, can you even see?” He padded towards me and his hair was all fluffy shut up.  
“It’s fine.” His fingers were quite dry and cool.   
“I’m amazed he managed to lay a finger on you.” John got a towel and soaked it under the cold-tap, squeezing it out. I hardly noticed his hands before now, they’re very dextrous, strong looking shut up.   
  
**1116** John just spent five minutes dabbing at my eye and now it’s literally all I can think about.   
  
**1130** Lestrade just showed up with a case. He took one look at me and shook John by the hand saying “I don’t believe it, you just won me fifty quid, thank you very much, couldn’t have happened to a more deserving man.” When John told him about Thackery he said “Don’t worry, Sally would never believe me if I told her that he had a family, let alone a cousin.” Huh.  
  
  
 **March 18th.** _Nicotine patches 7 Cigarettes 2 Tadpoles 9 (Still sinister)_  
  
 **1245** Hmm. Dinner with the Stamfords tonight. John’s coming. Must be on best behaviour.  
  
 **1350** Molly looked at me and started giggling. The intern (ridiculous hair, nice backside) whipped his phone out.   
“Who was it?”  
“What?”  
Molly cleared her throat and rubbed her eye.  
“It was my cousin.” I slumped in my chair. “Why?”  
“I had twenty quid on that pretty Sergeant.” The intern put his phone on the table and actually pouted.  
“I thought it’d be the DI.” Molly nibbled on a custard cream regretfully. “The foxy one.”  
“You mean Lestrade? Foxy?” What? He doesn’t even have red hair.  
“I’d say so.” The intern winked at me. “Anyway, this is no good to me. You’ll have to bugger off till you stop looking like that, otherwise the pool’ll go bonkers.”  
“There’s a pool?”   
“You know it’s no good if you tell him.” Molly said, annoyed.  
“What’s it at?”  
“I think we’re up to eight hundred quid now- especially after the last case. A pound’ll get you in. I’ve got you down as black eye, the pretty Sergeant.” Huh. Donovan wouldn’t punch anyone. She takes judo, she’s more likely to fling me over her shoulder than punch me in the face. Eight hundred pounds though. I could set up a lot of underground connections with that.  
“You said Lestrade?” I asked Molly.  
“Yeees.”   
“You know, I did call him a dunder-pated idiot the other day...” I did. He deserved it.   
“Did you now.”  
“Yes. He was very annoyed.” He was.   
“Oh yes? How annoyed?”   
“I’d say about oh, sixty-five per cent.”  
“Really? I would have said more like forty-five.”  
“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” The intern looked blankly from me to Molly. We ignored him.  
“Sixty.”  
“Fifty. No more, no less.”   
“You’re sure it’s not fifty-five?” I raised an eyebrow. She raised one back.  
“Don’t get cocky, you’re not that good.”  
“Fine. Anyway, he got annoyed and hit me.” The intern pouted a little, but he picked up his phone.  
  
 **1405** In canteen. Daphne (that incorrigible old bat) handed Molly eight hundred quid with her tea.  
  
 **1410** What on earth am I going to do with four hundred pounds in change? Apart from kill muggers.  
  
 **1745** John’s got a bottle of wine and an M &S cake. Should I have got something? I never get anything.   
  
**1750** I don’t understand what the cake is for. What if Mrs Mike thinks it’s a judgement on her cooking? She might do that thing where she turns the corners of her mouth up and bares her teeth.  
  
 **1755** John just accused me of being an antisocial bastard. I live with him, why do I need to make conversation in the cab?  
  
 **2300** I think I’m in disgrace with John.   
  
**2302** I even did as he asked and put ‘my notebook’ away.  
  
 **2305** He doesn’t understand how I’ve survived this long without someone killing me.  
  
 **2310** Anyway, I didn’t know that she was going to take offense. Someone into that sort of thing should be less touchy. She ruined this shirt.  
  
 **2311** Simon still has twenty tadpoles. He showed me the pictures. He’s a pretty good artist for a four year old. I told him about the cannibal tadpoles and he said quite seriously  
“But what about when dinner’s ages away? I always think I could eat a person.” Good lord.  
  
  
 **March 19th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 3 (but menthol) Tadpoles 9_  
  
 **1130** Molly says that just because I can tell what someone likes to do in bed by the way they eat chocolate cake doesn’t mean I should.  
  
 **1134** Even if they are giving John the glad eye.  
  
 **1135** And John is giving them the glad eye back.  
  
 **1136** I wasn’t to know that she was going to get all upset about it though. I merely pointed out that compared to the rather conservative way John liked to eat it, it was unlikely to be a compatible mate.  
  
 **1137** I mean, I don’t have a problem with John’s cake eating.  
  
 **1138** Molly says that if you can deduce how someone is in bed by how they eat, she is scared for any of my partners.   
  
**1139** There’s nothing wrong with how I eat Jaffa cakes either.  
  
 **1300** Molly caught me eating a custard cream and started giggling. Huh.  
  
 **1730** Bought John a chocolate cake.   
  
**1830** He looked at me for a very long time and finally said: “You are quite mad, aren’t you?”   
  
**1845** He’s on the phone to Mike. They keep saying chocolate cake and giggling. What’s so funny?  
  
  
 **19th March.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 4 Cases 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0_  
  
 **0900** Bored.  
  
 **0930** Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bor  
  
 **0931** Ooh, ice-cream.  
  
 **0933** Neapolitan ice-cream is definitely the most superior ice-cream.  
  
 **0935** John’s up.  
“Are you having ice-cream for breakfast?”  
“Maybe.”  
“Good idea.”  
  
 **0937** “You know Neapolitan ice-cream only works if you take all three flavours, not just the chocolate.” Huh.  
  
 **1015** Bored.   
  
**1017** Bored.   
  
**1020** John keeps watching cat videos and giggling.  
  
 **1035** I found a pool cue.  
  
 **1050** Ha! Success.  
  
 **1052** Apparently I am a bloody nuisance.  
  
 **1053** I didn’t know that his fingers would get caught in the lid of the laptop.  
  
 **1055** Or that a pile of New Scientist magazines could be so heavy.  
  
  
 **March 20th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 3 (stole Mycroft’s) Tadpoles 9 (I think one of them is growing legs)_  
  
 **1030** One of the tadpoles has a little nubby leg. Or it’s growing a clone.  
  
 **1035** It would be very useful to be able to grow new limbs at will. I wouldn’t need to use the ones at the morgue. I suppose one would have to cut off the old limb and then hop about till the new one grew in.  
  
 **1036** John probably wouldn’t approve though. He got ever so annoyed when he found out I was using my own blood in some of my experiments.  
  
 **1037** And the chicken for dinner. Twice. Anyway, John is so unreasonable. There is a difference between syringes for injecting something and syringes for drawing something. I’m amazed he didn’t notice that.   
  
**1100** Mycroft wants me to take a case. Shove off, Tubbs.  
  
 **1120** Text from Mycroft: ‘Buy your own blasted cigarettes.’   
Text back: ‘You don’t even smoke.’  
‘No, but sometimes it is more politic to have some available.’  
‘You do know cigarettes don’t actually make you lose weight?’  
‘I was going to call Mother tonight. What shall I tell her?’ Hate him.  
  
 **1125** Took Mycroft’s case. Hate him hate him hate him.  
  
  
 **March 22nd.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 4 Tadpoles 9 (still might be a clone)_  
  
 **1230** Couple of diplomats came by. Looking for a diamond. Might be interesting.  
  
  
 **March 23rd.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 3 Tadpoles 9 (leg is still there)_  
  
 **0830** We need: Milk butter bread jam Marmite risotto rice chicken cooking wine custard creams Hobnobs (why?) cheese loo roll ice-cream pasta ketchup... What else?  
  
 **0900** “I know you’ve got a case on. I’ll get the shopping in.”   
  
**0905** Oh god he had this what if he read it?   
  
**1010** Probably Mrs Hudson won’t notice the scratch in the table.  
  
 **1020** I wonder if he knows how adorable he is when he tries to make technology work shut up.  
  
 **1040** Oh god. Oh no. Oh no no no no.   
  
**1041** Called Molly.   
“I’m busy. We’ve had a cold snap recently.”  
“But it’s an emergency. What would you do if an ex e-mailed you?”  
“You do pick your moments, don’t you?” she sighed. “Depends. Why is he mailing?”  
“Business but it might not be. It might be just to gloat at me or show me his perfect family or tell me off for leaving dishes in the sink-”  
“Shut up will you? Let me think...”  
“He called me buddy. He asked me how I’ve been.”  
“Alright alright. He dumped you years ago, correct? And since then, you’ve raised a successful business, found a place in the middle of London, got a good reputation... And what has he got? I can tell you because I found a picture of him at the bank just now- he’s got a bald spot.”  
“But I’m still-”  
“Look, just, shut up. You sound like a teenage girl.”  
“I do not.”  
“You’re one more hysterical whinge from a MySpace page.”  
“I’m not hysterical! And no one uses MySpace anymore!”  
“There’s no dealing with you like this. Go see him, or don’t.”  
“But-”  
“And when you do, take John if you can. To buck you up.”  
“Do you think so?”  
“Probably. You’ll be fine though. You’ve got a much better dress sense, anyway.”  
“Do you think so?”  
“Of course.”  
“Because I’m not sure about the buttons on this-”  
“Goodbye Sherlock.” And she hung up. Rude.  
  
 **1130** Oh god. In cab. Feel ill. John looks annoyed too, or is it worried? Must resist urge to smooth out forehead shut up really now.  
  
 **1145** Oh god he’s still all Sebastian-y.  
  
 **1210** ‘Colleague’. I’m a colleague.   
  
**1240** Appears there is no age limit on who can become a policeman nowadays. He was quite literally four.  
  
 **1245** Text from Lestrade: ‘No whinging. Eldest is sick. Play nice.’  
When I brought up the being four thing he just said. ‘Good. See what it’s like being the baby-sitter for once.’  
Huh.  
  
 **1335** Colleague.   
  
**1336** And Seb just looked at me.   
  
**1420** “And I thought all bankers were supposed to be heartless bastards.” Oh my heart. And he just stood there all solid and John and gosh.  
  
 **1421** I can’t believe he still tells that story about the fork.  
  
 **1425** John just said “That Sebastian- I can’t believe you ever gave him the time of day.”   
“Mm.”  
“Was he supposed to be a- a friend?” What?  
“Well, yes. But he turned out not to be so nice.”  
“Oh.” And then there was this long awkward silence where we both looked at each other like he was trying to concentrate my eyebrows off or something.  
  
 **1437** Ugh. Still has those eyes. And that smile.  
  
 **1530** Molly got out a fresh packet of custard creams, although she didn’t have Van Coon’s body yet.  
“He called you a freak?”  
“Yes.”   
“Oh dear. How was the bald spot?”  
“I didn’t notice it. He’s gone a bit soft though- not playing as much football. But nice, you know- cuddly...” Molly was knocking her head gently against the cabinet by the kettle. Then she grabbed me by the scarf.  
“Don’t. Even. Think about it.”  
Good lord.  
  
 **1600** John’s wittering about a job interview. What job interview? Why would I have to go for a job interview?  
  
  
 **March 24th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 4 Tadpoles 9 (one of the others has grown clone-nubs)_  
  
 **0800** John’s already up.  
  
 **0830** I think he’s gone out. Probably. Or he’s shut himself in his room. Again.  
  
 **0930** Why would he get a job? I still need him for this case.   
  
**0931** She. Who is she? Some dull middle-management type, I’ll bet. Mousy, one of those frilly shirts. A cardigan in a nice neutral grey. Ugh.  
  
 **0940** Ugh. Off to see the child policeman.   
  
**1020** John just told me off. Apparently I shouldn’t put things into his head.  
  
 **2045** Why did I grab him by the head? Now he’ll think I’m confused and odd.  
  
 **2046** I am, but I should try not to broadcast it.  
  
  
 **March 25th.** _Nicotine patches 8 Cigarettes 3 Tadpoles 9_  
  
 **1810** At least Molly has the bodies. I would have thought complimenting her hair would have worked though.  
“Don’t flatter me. When was the last time you ate something?” she snapped. Oh god.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You look like you’re about to keel over. You’re not getting any bodies till you eat some toast.”   
“But-” She raised her clipboard. She’s so violent, I’m sure it’s not normal.  
John was laughing. Why was he laughing?  
  
  
 **March 26th.** _Nicotine patches 7 Cigarettes 3 Tadpoles 9_  
  
 **0800** Huh. Don’t understand why John couldn’t call in sick. So much to do. Hit a dead end with the books. Might play violin for a bit.  
  
 **0830** But which book? Nothing good coming out of the violin. Try and finish off that bloodwork experiment.  
  
 **0845** What kind of name is ‘Spider’ anyway? Experiment inconclusive. Also... Spreading. Ah.  
  
 **0930** Have contained experiment. Sort of. John won’t mind. Saved the tadpoles anyway. Now keeping the skull company. Since he does get lonely. All the tiny toe-bones he’ll never have.  
  
 **0945** This cushion has a ‘100% POLY’ tag. But it’s on John’s chair. Maybe I could move it.  
  
 **0950** How would a small Chinese man get out of China and into Britain anyway? What could he do with skills like that?  
  
 **0951** The cushion does look alright on the sofa.   
  
**0953** He could become a ladderless window cleaner.  
  
 **0955** This cushion just says ‘COTTON’ on it. What on earth does that mean?  
  
 **0957** Maybe I could put it on John’s chair.   
  
**1000** Or a firefighter that only rescues pets (carrying a person would be difficult if you had to use your hands.)  
  
 **1002** It looks alright on John’s chair. Not great though. Its true home is clearly the sofa.   
  
**1004** Texted Mycroft: ‘Assassins without ladders?’  
Mycroft: ‘We don’t have assassins, we have parliamentary debate.’  
He thinks he’s so smart.  
  
 **1006** POLY cushion also at home on my chair. COTTON cushion distinctly uncomfortable.  
  
 **1007** He could be a gardener perhaps. Climbing trees and so on.  
  
 **1010** POLY cushion also fine on kitchen chair.  
  
 **1011** Appear to have put COTTON cushion in bloodwork experiment.  
  
 **1012** Suppose could ask Mycroft to get hold of list of entry visas from China.  
  
 **1013** Ugh. Owe Mycroft a favour. But he promised he would get the list to me quickly. Which I suppose will do.  
  
 **1014** Got most of the bloodwork off cushion. John probably won’t notice.  
  
 **1016** How long does it take to get hold of a list of everyone coming in from China?  
  
 **1017** Hmm. Have put the skull on the COTTON cushion. They seem very happy together. Banished the POLY cushion to the sofa.  
  
 **1020** Oh god. What if the POLY rubs off on John?  
  
 **1021** Not like it matters I suppose. He’s too good for me anyway.  
  
 **1022** I don’t believe that they didn’t get the code out of a book. Maybe a website? What would they both Google?  
  
 **1023** I don’t believe Google is a verb now. Most ridiculous word. Mind you, what if Ask or Yahoo had got it instead? Or Dogpile.  
  
 **1024** I suppose should Google based on common interests based on books and habit of smuggling.  
  
 **1025** Ugh, just sat in damp patch left by COTTON cushion.   
  
**1730** What does he mean he’s got a date? I need him.   
  
**1731** This evening.   
  
**1732** Because of the case.  
  
 **1735** He’s in the shower. This is all my fault because of the Married To My Work Fiasco.   
  
**1740** Shower’s stopped. I wonder if he’ll shave. Probably.  
  
 **1741** Seb was right. A normal person would be able to talk to him instead of sitting in the kitchen drinking hot water and milk (forgot the teabag) and staring at the bathroom door with one eye. I really am an emotional wasteland with no hope of a real relationship.  
  
 **1745** He did shave. And he’s got that nice aftershave on. And that shirt.  
  
 **1747** Get a grip. He wore that shirt the other day.  
  
 **1749** And it looked nice then just shut up.   
  
**1754** I suppose at least he took my suggestion about the circus.  
  
 **2140** Back at the flat. Ugh just go away go away. I need John more than you do.  
  
 **2141** For the case.  
  
 **2142** Oh god did she see that?  
  
 **2143** Now Mrs Hudson’s showed up. It’s like working in Trafalgar Square in here. All I need are some pigeons trying to eat my notes.  
  
 **2144** There’s no need to be so smug, woman. I’d have noticed it sooner if you hadn’t been breathing over my shoulder and distracting everyone.  
  
 **0021** Found my journal on the doorstep. Must have dropped it on my way out.  
  
 **0025** Maybe there’s hope for that child detective after all.  
  
 **0045** John’s sitting in his chair. Can’t believe anyone thought they’d get to me through him. If I ever have to feel like I did when I got home ever again I’ll explode or die or something because I never want to feel like that again.  
  
 **0110** John’s sleeping in his chair.   
  
**0112** Clearly he overcame the POLY tag.  
Think I might be a bit hysterical.  
  
  
 **March 27th.** _Nicotine patches 7 Cigarettes 3 Tadpoles 9_  
  
 **0904** I can’t believe that Shan woman got away though. I really don’t like it when people interfere with things that are... important... to me.  
  
 **0905** Because they help with my work.  
  
 **0906** I would be equally keen to discuss things with her if she had stolen my Blackberry.  
  
 **1030** “Look, I’ll talk to Seb. As your financial advisor.” He really is quite lovely.  
  
 **1404** John seems awfully keen on this Bond night. He’s got popcorn and everything.  
  
 **1410** “I don’t know why you’re telling me about this. Is it a date?”  
“No, it’s a Bond night.” Molly just looked at me.  
“You are completely and utterly ridiculous.” Huh.  
She wasn’t really interested anyway. She’s got a ‘cosy night in’ planned with her latest.  
“Is he a Japanese pervert as well?” She threw the packet of biscuits at my head. She’s so violent. She probably has a problem.  
“My problem, Sherlock, is nosy gits like you!” Huh.  
  
 **1934** The villain- Blofeld- reminds me of Mycroft somehow.  
  
 **1935** John agrees that we should get Mycroft a white cat for Christmas.  
  
 **1937** This is ridiculous. Why does he need to get on top of the lift?  
  
 **1940** “You know, Bond reminds me of you.”  
“Really?”  
“Yes.”  
“He’s a bit keen on himself.”  
“Exactly.” Huh.  
  
 **0400** Just woke up with John’s arm round me. Must have fallen asleep or something. Think I’ll just stay here...  
  
  
 **March 28th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 5 Tadpoles 9_  
  
 **0800** Better get out before he wakes up.  
  
 **0830** “Are you watching me sleep?”  
“No.” Yes.  
“Nutter. Can’t believe you let me sleep here all night.”  
“The feeling is mutual.”  
“What?” What?  
Think I might be a bit hysterical.  
  
 **1203** Mycroft wants me to take a case. No.   
  
**1400** Hmm. Belarus is supposed to be quite interesting. And they’ll pay. And John says he’ll keep an eye on the tadpoles.  
  
 **1600** Last text from John: ‘Sarah actually agreed to a second date. If you find a way to disturb me from Russia I will do something we both regret.’  
Huh.  
  
 **1605** Mind you, it would be useful to have someone along. Just in case.  
  
 **2040** 11.40pm local time. Wonder what John is up to? Bet his date with Sarah went brilliantly.  
  
 **2045** Oh god what if they’re on the couch? I like that couch.   
  
  
**March 29th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 4 (Russian cigarettes are actually terrifying) Will have to text John about tadpoles_  
  
 **1000** At the prison. Bit grim, even for a prison. And it’s freezing. Never again.  
  
 **1030** Utter waste of time. Plane’s in a couple of hours, not even time to have a look around. Ugh. Whole world determined to bore me.  
  
 **1045** Texted John: ‘Coming home. Tell me it’s warm in London.’  
‘It’s warm where I am, which is in bed. Date was good last night, thanks for asking.’  
I wasn’t.  
  
 **1050** In bed. Probably with Sarah. Giggling and things.  
  
 **1051** I can’t believe he’s leaving me for her.  
  
 **1052** Except he’s not, because of the Married To My Work Fiasco and the whole emotional ice-burg thing. And he was always too good for me anyway.  
  
 **1054** And he’s a soldier, so it’s not like killing that one person actually meant anything. He’s killed lots of people. For money even.  
  
 **1055** But not in a prostitute way.  
  
 **1056** He would be a very high-class prostitute though, what with the special training to be a doctor and everything.  
  
 **1300** I quite like airports. They’re not-places, which is interesting.   
  
**1301** You’d expect the chairs to be more comfortable though.  
  
 **1310** And the coffee to be better.  
  
 **1600** One pm local time. John’s staying at Sarah’s tonight. God knows why, they always end up having a row. Would have thought he’d rather stay in with me, but there you go. And he’s at work today. Might as well have stayed in Minsk.  
  
 **1740** Message on answer phone. “Hi there John, Sarah here. Lovely time last night, looking forward to dinner tonight. Suppose I’ll see you round the water cooler! Byee.”  
  
 **1743** Who says ‘byee’, really?  
  
 **1750** And a text from Mycroft. Sent one back telling him to cut down on the cream pies or his fingers would be too fat for the keyboard of his phone. Felt a bit better.  
  
  
 **March 30th.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 2 (still on the Russian ones) Tadpoles 9_  
  
 **0830** Huh. ‘A great time last night’ indeed.  
  
 **0900** Molly won’t shut up about her wonderful new boyfriend. Who cares? I don’t. I don’t understand why people are so obsessed with getting paired off. It’s so pointless. She’s currently all annoyed because he didn’t respond to some e-mail or other. I don’t see why he should have to be at her beck and call all the time. It’s demeaning.  
  
 **0920** Still no text from John. Huh.  
  
 **1100** Just got an angry text from Molly. She’s so unreasonable. And violent. I told her I wasn’t going back till she calmed down and she phoned me up to shout at me. She’s actually dangerous.  
  
 **1200** John not responding to text.  
  
 **1210** Bored.  
  
 **1211** BORED.  
  
 **1220** I suppose I could have another go at that bloodwork experiment.  
  
 **1350** Well, that was far more successful, I suppose.  
  
 **1352** I suppose I should clean it up. Dying of boredom though.  
  
 **1400** Mrs Hudson just came by. She says John would appreciate it if I had a bit of a tidy up.  
  
 **1430** Text from Mycroft. Told him that if he didn’t stop shovelling wine gums he’d rot his teeth out.  
  
 **1605** I suppose I should get rid of this spray-paint. It’s unlikely I’ll need to contact a tong anytime soon...  
  
 **1730** John appears to have caught Molly’s unreasonableness. It’s not like the head belonged to anyone he knew.  
  
 **1740** And Mrs Hudson. It’s an unreasonableness epidemic. Thank god I’m immune. Don’t understand why everyone’s so cross anyway.  
  
 **1750** Good lord. Well, Mrs Hudson isn’t allowed to shout at me about the wall any more, anyway. And it wasn’t even my fault this time.  
  
 **1753** Standing on the street in my dressing-gown while they check the flat over. Don’t know why, it was the other side of the street that blew up.  
  
 **1754** John’s switched his phone off. Rude.  
  
 **1755** I’m surprised he didn’t hear the explosion though. Must be that cabbie who treats road rules like a polite suggestion.  
  
 **1756** I appear to have shot a hole in this dressing-gown. Damn.   
  
**1757** It’s freezing out here, though there are some quite magnificent moustaches on the fire fighters. Maybe it’s to keep their top lip warm when they have to fight fires in the winter? Although I suppose the fire would do that. But after they put it out, it would keep them warm from the sudden chill of not being in a fire. And they could use it to dust things that they were about to put in their mouth.  
  
 **1759** Gosh, they’re quite fit. I suppose it must be all the hose handling they do.  
  
 **1800** Good lord. They’re handling their hoses very deftly.  
  
 **1800** “‘Ere, you alright?”   
“Oh, er, yes. Just. Shock.”  
Definitely a bit hysterical.  
  
 **1805** I’m being haunted by a giant red-orange ghost. I tried telling them I wasn’t actually in shock, but I kept thinking about the hose handling.  
  
 **1807** Wonder how John would look with a moustache.  
  
 **1815** Lestrade showed up.   
“What are you writing?”  
The insulating properties of moustaches. “Nothing.”  
“Right... Nice look, by the way. Very Arthur Dent.”  
“Who?”  
“Seriously? Oh, never mind.”  
  
 **1820** Oh dear. John is not going to like this. Although at this rate he’ll never find out. Is he not watching the news, where ever he is?  
  
 **1821** Mainly broken glass though. And I’m sure we must have a Hoover somewhere around here.  
  
 **1835** Why does this Hoover have a face? Not sure how I feel about dragging it around by what I can only hope is its nose.   
  
**1836** Must be its nose. Anything else would be obscene and probably anatomically incorrect. Unless Hoovers have a different anatomy.  
  
 **1850** Mrs Hudson took the Hoover off me and told me to cover the windows with something. Apparently she can claim it all on insurance. Surprisingly together considering her window has also been blown in.   
“This takes me back, you know. I keep waiting for the all clear.” All clear?  
  
 **1920** It’s cold in here now. This is ridiculous. John’s phone still off. Bet he’s nice and warm, where ever he is.  
  
 **1921** Nice and warm with Sarah though.  
  
 **2000** Text from Mycroft. How did he not spot someone taking several kilos of explosives into the house across the road? Too busy eyebrow-deep in a trifle or something I suppose.  
  
  
 **March 30th.** _Nicotine patches 5 Cigarettes 2 Tadpoles 9 (apparently invigorated by last night’s excitement, several have clone-nubs) Annoying older brothers 1 (fat enough for six)_  
  
 **0900** I can’t believe he came to the flat. There should be a law against that. Well, just because he’s here doesn’t mean I have to talk to him.   
  
**0905** Though he is apparently intent on talking to me. Why does he insist on being so dull?  
  
 **0920** He’s talking to John. There should be a law against that. There should just be a law against annoying people.  
  
 **0921** Though I suppose if there was, Mycroft would have stopped it, because he is an annoying git.  
  
 **0925** Anyway, told him if he ate too many sweets he’d rot his teeth. He should listen to me more.  
  
 **0930** Hopefully Lestrade has something actually interesting on.  
  
 **1240** Molly just hit me with a petri-dish. Who throws a petri-dish? I don’t understand why she’s so annoyed anyway, I brought the head back. And put it with the right body.   
  
**1241** And whatsisname was so very, very gay.   
  
  
**March 31st.** _Nicotine patches 6 Cigarettes 1 Tadpoles 9 (I'm going to need a bigger bowl)_  
  
 **0900** This is fascinating though. Someone’s clearly gone to quite a lot of trouble.  
  
 **0905** And all for me. It’s enough to turn one’s head.  
  
 **0906** Not that it will, of course. Strapping people to bombs is bad, of course.  
  
 **0908** But he even kept the shoes. It’s almost sweet.  
  
 **0909** But still bad.  
  
 **0910** Oh, it's Christmas!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rugby Shorts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/872205) by [Forever_Johnlocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forever_Johnlocked/pseuds/Forever_Johnlocked)




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